A Lamb To Save ?
by Absolut
Summary: Set one year after the movie ending. Clarice is trying to reconstruct her life, but a strange encounter could change her plans ...
1. Chapter 01

**One Lamb To Save**  
By Absolut.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Barney (plus anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
  
**Chapter 1**  
  
The clock rang at 6:15 like every morning. Clarice Starling opened her eyes immediately and sat up in her bed. It was only after a few seconds and she had remembered her today assignment that her enthusiasm for this new starting day decreased significantly. She sighed. Well, it had been months she had not had anything exciting to do, so what difference did one day make ?  
  
She got up and dressed with a short and sweater. Five minutes later, she was running towards St Patrick's park. Her morning run was the only truly happy moment of her days. For about one hour every morning, she concentrated on the physical effort and just forgot everything else.  
  
It was only after she had come back home and taken a shower that the reality of her life caught up with her ... And her life was certainly not what she had dreamt for these days ... Clarice was sitting in her kitchen, her spoon lazily playing in her bowl of cereals, her thoughts lost in the contemplation of the last twelve months of her life.  
  
The first weeks after that night in Chesapeake had been just like hell. The Bureau was somehow considering her as responsible for Lecter' s escape, if not for Paul Krendler' s death. She had been suspended for three full weeks and thoroughly interrogated by a dozen different agents. Again and again she had had to repeat the whole story, from the capture of Lecter by Verger' s men to the night in Krendler' s lake house. She had not concealed anything, not even the most embarrassing details. And her version of the facts had never varied. At the end, though they were still reluctant, they had had to accept she was telling them the truth.  
  
She had been reinstated but at a lower level and in a different unit, as a punishment for having disobeyed to Pearsall' s orders. This was the only thing they managed to officially charge her with. But she was no fool. She knew better than that. She knew nobody would ever trust her again in Washington. "The petty end of a promising career ..."  
  
Nobody had offered her help or support in this period. Nobody except Ardelia, of course. For months, her nights had been full of nightmares ... visions of Hannibal Lecter cutting through Krendler' s brain ... the burning feeling of his lips on hers ... But her nights were nothing in comparison with her days. She had been confined in a remote cubicle, alone. Every time she was entering a room, she could feel the despising looks of her colleagues on her back. She could hear the conversations interrupted whenever she arrived somewhere. A whore. This is what they considered her like. Not special agent Clarice Starling, but Hannibal The Cannibal 's whore.  
  
She had been assigned only endless paper work, filing reports, photocopies, ... a kind of special 'assistant to the assistant' position. She had done it because she had no choice, and at the beginning she had thought things would get better with time. But after a few months of this special treatment, she knew she was wrong. So, when the opportunity to be transferred to the New York office had come, she had packed her things and moved.  
  
Not that the job was much more interesting here, but at least people did not know her and she was having kind of normal relationships with her colleagues. Her new boss' name was Peter Farrow. She knew he had been a friend of Jack Crawford and that it was most probably the reason why he had granted her a chance ... A tribute to Crawford' s memory.  
  
For the moment, he was giving her only simple assignments, and not crucial ones. Mainly research stuff. But recently she had been staking out at a suspect' s house in a drug trafficking case. Farrow was acting as if he was testing her, trying to make his own opinion of her capacities. She appreciated that, and was ready to be patient if he needed time. Besides, he was looking at her as a normal human being, which was already much more than what she had received in Washington lately.  
  
She had a look around. Her new apartment was fine, not big but cozy. Anyway, that was all she could afford in New York.  
  
She grinned at the thought of what was expecting her today: Public Administration Career Day ! She had been nominated the representative for the FBI. Practically, she was supposed to spend the day downtown sing the praises of a career in the FBI to local universities students. The irony of it made her smile.  
  
She finished her breakfast rapidly and got started for this very important day ...  
  


* * *

  
The hall of the Marriot hotel was overcrowded. The students had started to arrive and the few officials delegated to the event were trying to organize a bit the flow, but with not much success. Clarice went to the reception desk and asked where she could find Stuart Paterson, which was the name Farrow had given her. The clerk showed her a tall thin man at the other end of the counter and she went to him and introduced herself.  
  
" - Oh !" he said "The FBI ! Well, welcome to the zoo, agent Starling." he added, showing the mess around. Paterson was about her age and she found him nice. She smiled to him.  
" - You can call me Clarice. Can I be of any assistance ?  
- I'm afraid there is not much to be done. These things always get kinda messy at one point or another. So ..." he said, looking at the bundle of papers he had in hand." FBI ... Here you are. You've been assigned room Picasso. Nice one.  
- Thanks.  
- You've got time. Someone from the mayor' s office is going to make an introductory speech. I think you'll be able to start your presentation in an hour or so.  
- All right.  
- You can have a coffee at the bar. Just show your badge. Do you want me to show you the room ?  
- Thanks, but I think I can find it. You look pretty busy right now.  
- OK. See you later."  
  
Clarice made her way to the Picasso room and settled her material for the presentation. Then she went back to the hall and had a look around. The situation was getting slightly better. The students and their teachers were being led to a vast auditorium where, she guessed, the initial speech would be given. She decided to follow.  
  
She found a seat in the back of the room and started to observe people around. She had a strange feeling watching all these young people, full of energy and enthusiasm at the beginning of their adult life. So much like her when she was their age ... and yet so different. She had always known what she wanted to do with her life, ever since she was seven and her father got killed. She had not needed any career day back then.  
  
And there she was ... Mrs. FBI ... For a minute, she wondered if things could have turned differently.  
  
The sound of the voice of the speaker brought her back to reality. She shook her head as if to get rid of her dark thoughts and concentrated on the speech. One thing at a time, Clarice.  
  
The speech itself turned out to be pretty classic and boring - basically how proud one could feel serving the People of America. Soon, she stopped listening and started watching the audience again. Twenty - twenty five years old, full of life ... There were much more boys than girls. A few professors had accompanied them and regrouped in the back of the room.  
  
Clarice left before the end to be ready when the first student would arrive to the conference room assigned to her.  
  


* * *

  
" ... And so, as you will have understood, the FBI can offer you a rather wide range of careers to suit your interests and objectives in life." Clarice had been talking for a little more than one hour now. There were about eighty young men and women in front of her. Globally she thought she had got their attention, and so fulfilled her mission. She took a sip of water. "I am now available whole day to answer your questions or to give you further information. You can also pick documentation on the table near the door. Anyone wants to start ?"  
  
A young woman held up her hand.  
  
" - Yes ?  
- Are there some positions or careers in the FBI that a woman could not access ?  
- No." Clarice smiled. "The career of an agent is only based on his or her value and demonstrated abilities." Another student was raising his hand. "Yes ?  
- Did you follow the special training at the academy in Quantico ?  
- Yes, I did.  
- They say it's pretty tough.  
- Well, it's no holidays if this is what you mean. But you have to know what you want in life and go for it."  
  
The question and answer session went on. The questions were what she had expected them to be. Clarice was smiling to her audience and always giving standard, politically correct answers. After an hour or so, Clarice finally noticed a student who had been apparently trying to get her attention for quite some time.  
  
" - Yes ?" she said to him, absentmindedly.  
" - Thank you special agent Starling. I just wanted to know ... During your long career at the FBI, did you ever regret your enrollment ?"  
  
Now, the young man had got her full attention. No one had called her **special** agent for one year now. In fact, since the Chesapeake episode, she had no more rights to this title. She looked at him more closely. He was standing only 10 ft from her. He looked a little younger than the other students, seventeen, maybe eighteen years old. He had deep blue eyes who were shamelessly staring at her. Clarice could not say precisely what, but there was something slightly familiar in the man' s appearance. And that disturbed her a bit. She crossed her fingers on the desk and answered as calmly as possible.  
  
"It is **agent** Starling ... Now, to answer your question, as in every career and like everybody else I had my share of ups and downs. But no, I never really regretted my decision." The young man blinked and for a very fugitive instant, Clarice thought she had seen a smile on his lips. As if he knew she had lied to him. "Thank you, **agent** Starling" he said.  
  
Another question came from the other side of the room and Clarice had to turn to another student. After she had answered, she tried to find the young man again but he had disappeared. She tried to search for him in the room but he was nowhere to be seen. She felt strangely uncomfortable. She answered a few other questions, but her mind was somewhere else. Who was this kid ? And why did she have the feeling she had seen him before ?  
  
****  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	2. Chapter 02

****Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Barney (plus anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
  
******Chapter 2**  
  
The morning after, Peter Farrow called her in his office. He said he had received a very positive feedback from Stuart Paterson about her conference, and he wanted to thank her. Then he told her he had a new assignment for her.  
  
"Yesterday, I received a request from Washington." he started. "They need a little help on a multiple murder case. It seems their main suspect happened to live in New York for a few years. They asked me for a background investigation. You know ... the classical stuff ... the places he lived in, interviews of the neighbors, try to locate the persons that knew him here ... I thought it might interest you. Change you from paper work ... Clarice smiled. "Yes. Thank you, sir."  
  
He gave her the file and all the information Washington had sent him and she left the office.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice had spent the whole day in the streets of New York, gathering information about Luke Stadtler, the suspect the Washington office had for a so far unresolved triple murder. She had only come back to office to write her report. She read it again and mailed it to Farrow.  
  
It was already half past eight. She was no more used to intense activity and was starting to feel a bit tired. There was nothing more she could do now anyway. She took her bag and headed towards the exit.  
  
The cold wind outside made her chill. She put her hands in her coat pockets, bent her head and started her ten minutes walk to her apartment. She had not even reached the corner of the building when she bumped into someone. She raised her face. "I'm sorry, I ..." she started, but she froze when she realized who she was talking to. The young student that had called her special agent Starling the day before was standing in front of her.  
  
" - Good morning, agent Starling." he said softly. "I'm sorry to have startled you." As Clarice remained speechless, he continued. "Do you recognize me ?  
- I sure do. But what are you doing here ? Who the hell are you ?  
- My name is Jason Mc Namara. In fact ... I have been waiting for you. I would like to talk to you about something and was wondering if you would accept giving me a little bit of your time."  
  
Clarice calmed down a bit. After all, he was only a student ...   
  
" - What is it about ?  
- Well ... It is not just a thirty seconds thing. I thought we might talk in a place a little bit more comfortable. There is a nice little italian restaurant two blocks away. Would you let me invite you for dinner ?"  
  
Clarice looked at him, undecided.  
  
" - I know this sounds unusual, agent Starling. But I can assure you there is no trap and I have no bad intentions. We would just have dinner. And then if you don't want to see me again, I will just disappear.  
- Italian restaurant, um ?  
- Yes. They cook the best Spaghetti Alle Vongole I've ever eaten.  
- I have no idea what this is, but I'll give it a try."  
  
The young man smiled and once again Clarice had this feeling of 'déja-vu'. "Thank you very much, agent Starling." He showed her the way and they started walking towards the restaurant. They both remained silent.  
  


* * *

  
Though it was only two minutes from her office, Clarice had never heard of this restaurant before. From the outside, the place did not really look like much. She was not sure she would have noticed it was a restaurant if she had just passed in front of it. The inside instead was a very nice surprise. It was not big but very cozy and decorated with taste.  
  
Her companion talked briefly with the waiter and they were led to a table in the corner, a little bit isolated from the rest of the room. Apparently, the young man had come here before and what he had to tell her required privacy. He held the chair for Clarice and then went to sit in front of her. "Would you like to have a drink before we start ?" he asked. As Clarice answered positively, he ordered a whiskey for her and a soda for him.  
  
" - How do you know what I'm drinking ?" she asked.  
" - I've been well informed." he answered mischievously.  
" - I see. And may I ask who your informers were ?  
- I will come to that ... later if you don't mind."  
  
The waiter brought their glasses and the menu. "Would you trust me for the meal ?" Mc Namara asked. She nodded. He turned to the waiter and started to talk to him in what sounded to Clarice as fluent Italian. She had no idea what she was about to eat. While he was ordering, she had a better look at him. He was not very tall, but rather athletic. To say the less, he was very attractive and was probably breaking a lot of young hearts. But what was the most striking were his eyes ... Or rather his look, the intensity with which he was looking at people. He was wearing a dark blue suit which seemed to have been tailored for him, a white shirt and a blue tie with thin maroon stripes. Pretty elegant for a man his age !  
  
Clarice waited for the waiter to leave the table and asked him: "Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Mc Namara ?". The young man did not seem to understand what she meant and tilted his head on the left. Clarice' s heart skipped a few beats. She was now almost certain she had met him before. The expression on his face ... his manners ... But **where** ? She would for sure find out soon.  
  
" - The Italian, I mean.  
- Oh ! I'm sorry. I did not want to look pedant. Just an habit. But please call me Jason.  
- So, will you tell me now what this is all about, **Jason** ? I don't think you have come to me to discuss your possible career in the FBI, have you ?"  
  
Jason chuckled.  
  
" - Not really. Honestly, I don't seriously think of joining the FBI.  
- Besides, you look a little bit too young to be at university. How old are you ? Eighteen ?  
- Sixteen. I will be seventeen next month. But I actually am slightly in advance. It's my first year at university. I'm studying literature. But the reason I was there yesterday was just to see you.  
- See me ? Why would that be ?"  
  
Clarice was getting very intrigued now. Jason took some time before he answered, as if he was choosing his words.  
  
" - Just to make myself an opinion. You see, I have heard a lot about you. But what I have to tell you is rather personal and very important for me and I wanted to make sure I could trust you.  
- Just by attending a conference ?  
- People say I have a gift for people.  
- So, what is this important thing you want to tell me ? Or would '**ask me**' be more appropriate ?  
- It would."  
  
The waiter came back to their table to bring the first course. They instinctively interrupted their conversation until he had left again.  
  
" - Bon appetit." Jason said.  
" - Bon appetit. What is it ?  
- Spaghetti Alle Vongole ... Pasta with clams and seafood.  
- And this is the first course ?  
- Yes. Italian tradition. First course is pasta or risotto, that is rice. And second course is meat or fish."  
  
They started to eat. It was delicious. And the wine he had chosen certainly measured up with the food. Jason saw appreciation on Clarice' s face and smiled to her. After a few minutes, he unexpectedly broke the silence: "My father has been kidnapped." he simply said. Clarice raised her face and stared at him in disbelief. Till now, they had just went on with very light conversation, and now this short and dramatic sentence ... There had not been an ounce of stress in the young man' s voice.  
  
"What ?" she said. She had spoken loudly and some of the other customers were glancing at them. Jason looked at her, embarrassed.  
  
" - What do you mean by 'kidnapped' ?" she asked lowering her tone.  
" - I mean exactly what people usually mean with this word: somebody took him away and asked for a ransom."  
  
She stared at him, trying to understand if he was just kidding. But he looked very serious.  
  
" - Jason, I'm really sorry about what happened to your father ... really, I did not expect that, but ... What has it got to do with me ?  
- ... I am here to ask you to help me find him, and free him of course.  
- Jason, I don't know what people told you about me ... and I do understand you want to do something for your father, but ... I don't see how I could help you."  
  
Jason' s eyes became darker. For the first time in the evening, Clarice saw a true emotion on the young man' s face. And this was very much looking like pain.  
  
" - Jason, I'm sorry. Really I am ... What did the police tell you ?  
- I did not go to the police.  
- Jason, you have to. I suppose the kidnappers have threatened the life of your father in case you contact the police, but you have to go to them anyway. Only **they **can help you ...  
- It is not that. I just ... cannot go to the police. It is simply impossible.  
- But why ?  
- Because of who my father is."  
  
Jason bent his head and looked down at the table. He was mechanically playing with his fork. Clarice was really puzzled now.  
  
" - Jason, what is it with your father ? Who is he ? Is he somebody I should have heard about ?  
- Maybe you would understand better if I tell you the whole story.  
- Sure. Please ..."  
  
He put his fork back on the table and again looked at her straight in the eyes.  
  
" - My parents are ... Well, they never got married. I came here to spend some holidays with my father. He was supposed to wait for me at the airport but he was not there.  
- When was this ?  
- Two days ago. I arrived on Tuesday, at 2:15 pm. I did not really worry then. My father is a little bit ... particular. And ... well, it is not unusual that he changes his plans at the last minute. So, I took a cab. But when I arrived at his place, the house was empty. The daily newspaper was on the kitchen table though. So I assumed he had been there in the morning. I waited for a while, unpacked my things ... But after a couple of hours I started to worry.  
- But if your father is used to changing his plans ...  
- He would have called me. He knew I would be home. He would have called me there. So I started to have a deeper look in the house, to try to understand. I went to his study. And on the top of his desk I found an envelope. It had been put in evidence and my name was written on it."  
  
They were interrupted by the waiter coming with the second course. Clarice was no more interested in what was in her plate. All she wanted was to know the rest of the story.  
  
" - What was in the envelope, Jason ?  
- Two sheets of papers. The first one was an anonymous letter. You know ... the one they make cutting letters in magazines.  
- What did it say ?  
- 'Dear Mr. Mc Namara Jr., We have your father. But we are ready to give him back to you if you hand us 4 million dollars. We give you one week to gather the money. We will contact you again.' That's what it said. Pretty explicit.  
- Not really original, I would say. But it means they knew you were arriving on that very day. This is already a clue ... Is your father that rich ?" she asked. "I mean, does he really have 4 million dollars ?  
- He is, yes. He's got much more than that."  
  
Clarice thought for a moment. "You said there were two sheets of papers in the envelope. What was the second one ?" she finally said. Jason looked as if he was hesitating to answer her question. As he did not talk, she went on:  
  
" - Is it linked to the reason why you could not go to the police ?  
- Yes. In a way.  
- Jason, you have come here to speak with me. To ask for my help. Why do you hesitate now ?  
- It's just ... It's difficult. I was raised with the principle I should never talk to anybody about these things ... but now ... Nobody else must ever know about this ...  
- Why did you come to **me** ?  
- My father once told me you were someone who could be trusted. He does not say that about many people, you know.  
- Do I know him ?"  
  
Jason seemed to hesitate again for a few seconds. But then he put his hand to the internal pocket of his jacket and took a white sheet of paper from it. He handed it to Clarice. She took it. Before she unfolded it she said: "You can trust me, Jason. I won't tell anybody. Not without your agreement, I mean." He nodded.  
  
She carefully unfolded the paper and finally looked at it.  
  
Her face suddenly became as pale as chalk. Her heart started running inside her chest. Her breathing accelerated. She would have recognized this handwriting out of a million one. On the little piece of paper that was now trembling in her hands where the delicate writing of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  
  
She looked at Jason in disbelief. He was staring at her, biting his lip, visibly anxious for her reaction. She opened her mouth but no sound came out of it. "Yes" Jason answered her previous question. "You know my father." It took Clarice a few more seconds to regain enough composure to be able to speak.  
  
" - You are the son of ...  
- A former renowned psychiatrist you met about ten years ago." he interrupted her quickly. She had a look around.  
  
She finally looked back to the paper and read its content:  
  
" _Jason,  
  
Unfortunately what you have read is true.   
  
These gentlemen look very serious. So, do as they tell you, and we will see each other again soon.  
  
Your loving father._ "  
  
Jason was the first one to speak.  
  
" - I'm sure you now understand why I could not go to the police, agent Starling." She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You do.  
- How can you be ...  
- I will answer all your questions. I promise. But maybe here is not the right place.  
- You're right." Clarice said, thinking of the way her life would go like if she was found dining with the son of Hannibal Lecter. "I live ten minutes from here. We would be more ... comfortable at my apartment.  
- Thank you. I think we should eat now. Or the fish will get cold."  
  
Clarice could not help admiring his calm. She nodded and started to eat. They finished their meal in silence. They did not order a desert and Jason asked for the bill. She observed him as he was paying and complimenting the waiter for the dinner. Everything was getting clear now. This feeling he looked so familiar to her ... his style, his manners ... his eyes. He was not an exact copy of his father, but was resembling him enough to have provoked this disturbing sensation in her.  
  
They left the restaurant. The wind had weakened and it was less cold now.  
  
" - This way." she indicated.  
" - I know.  
- ... Of course you do."  
  
They walked in silence to Clarice' s apartment.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice opened the door and let him in first. She dropped her bag on the floor and hanged both their coats.  
  
" - I need a drink." she said. "Would you like something ?  
- I would not like to ask for too much but ... I could use a coffee. I did not sleep much in the last two days.  
- I can understand that."  
  
He followed her to the kitchen. She took care of his coffee and helped herself a glass of whiskey. Then they sat at the table.  
  
" - Shoot." he said.  
" - I still can't believe it. The son of Hannibal Lecter. I could never have imagined he had children.  
- It's only me really. I don't have sisters or brothers. So, you should not have any other bad surprise.  
- Umh. But how could you be his son ? I mean, you told me you were sixteen years old. But sixteen years ago, Hannibal Lecter was ...  
- Locked in Baltimore. Yes.  
- Then ?  
- One of the orderly, at the asylum, owed him a favor.  
- Barney ?" she asked, even though she was sure it could only be him.  
  
" - Yes. Barney. It was in the first years of his incarceration. He was not yet in ... I think you call it 'The Dungeon' ?" She nodded. "To pay his debt, Barney arranged a few nights in pleasant company for my father.  
- Pleasant company ?  
- Prostitutes. He made them enter when everybody else was sleeping and let them out before the day staff arrived. He did it three or four times only from what I know. One of these lady was my mother.  
- I see.  
- Yes. I am the son of a bitch and a Cannibal. Pretty interesting heredity, don't you think, agent Starling ?  
- Phrased like that ... I think you can call me Clarice now. What happened then ?  
- When she discovered she was pregnant, my mother went back to Barney, who told my father.  
- But how could she be sure ...  
- Who my father was ? For sure these kind of things are not easy with the kind of job my mother had. But she was very cautious. She usually protected herself. Barney was supposed to take care of the condoms. But he forgot them. My mother hesitated but he was paying four times the normal price and she needed the money. So she accepted in the end."  
  
Clarice could not help but smile.  
  
" - This is incredible." she said.  
" - I know. I should never have been born. Not from these two at least. But sometimes destiny ... My father demanded blood tests anyway. When he was sure I was his son, he arranged for my mother not to have to bother about money ever again. Later, I knew he was having news regularly, through Barney.  
- But did you know who it was ?  
- Not at the beginning. My mother had told me my father was traveling. But then he escaped and he got in touch with her. It took him about six months to arrange something, but I finally met him.  
- How old were you ?  
- Six years old.  
- And he told you who he was ?"  
  
Jason laughed loudly. Clarice' s cheeks reddened a bit.  
  
" - Not then. I was much too young. I mean ... he told me he was my father, but not that he was the infamous Hannibal Lecter. I was twelve years old when he finally told me the whole story.  
- You mean you were living with him ?  
- No. I have always been living with my mother. It was much safer. But I saw him regularly. In the last ten years, we've never been separated more then two months. Either he came to see us, or I took the plane to Florence.  
- How did you react when he told you who he was ?"  
  
Jason did not answer immediately. Clarice suddenly realized that all this might not be exactly as easy as it seems for him. After all, even if he was definitely more mature than most kids his age, he was only sixteen, had lived a very particular life, and his father had been kidnapped. And she was pushing on him with her stupid questions.  
  
" - I'm sorry, Jason. You don't have to answer that. I think ...  
- There's no problem, Clarice. I was just looking for the best way to make you understand. It's not easy to explain ... He is my **father**, you see. I know what he has done. I don't approve of it, of course. But he is my father ... and a good father as well. He's always been there for me. Even when he was not physically present, he gave me more than most of my friends got from their old man. He could have left, you know. He could have paid my mother and disappear. It would have been easy. You, better than anyone else, know that when he does not want to be found ...  
- Yes, I know.  
- Yet he did not walk away from me. Maybe it's not that complicated to say: I love him, that's all. Despite what he is. As I love my mother, even if she was a prostitute. I know ... I don't expect people to understand.  
- I think I do.  
- Yes. Maybe **you** can. I have a very unusual family. But it's **my** family."  
  
Jason' s face had suddenly darkened again. Clarice put her hand on his arm.   
  
" - I can understand that, Jason.  
- I don't want to loose him.  
- He is certainly the most resourceful person I know.  
...  
- Will you help me ?"  
  
For the first time since she had met him, Jason looked vulnerable and about to loose the control on his emotions. Clarice was beginning to like him. But what he was asking her was not so simple. Hannibal Lecter was still a wanted criminal and she was still an FBI agent. Even if that did not mean the same thing to her it had meant one year before. Helping him going to the rescue of his father meant in a way betraying the Bureau, and thus renouncing to what she believed in.  
  
So what ? Let Jason cope alone with the kidnappers ? Even if he seemed to have inherited the intelligence of his father, he had no experience in dealing with criminals. His chances of success were rather poor. And failure would probably mean the death of Lecter. For the first time in months, the image of Hannibal Lecter in Krendler' s lake house came back to her. Going to his rescue would not be a first for her. And he had saved her life too at Muskrat farm. No matter how much she had wanted to catch him and put him back behind bars, she had never wanted his death.  
  
Jason's look was locked on her. So, she thought, it would be saving the lambs again ...  
  
" - Can you gather the money for the ransom ?" she asked the young man.  
" - Not in one week. The maximum I could get would be around 200 000 $. My father's got the money. But I cannot access it. His accounting system is a bit complicated, as you can imagine.  
- But if he came to disappear, what would become of his money ?  
- He has made some arrangements for me. He has a weekly phone call with a man he trusts. If he misses three consecutive appointments, this person will contact me and give me all the keys ... That is, will transfer the money to me and give me all necessary information. Basically, I could gather four million dollars, but in a month or so.  
- I see.  
...  
- Of course my father knows that. So, when he asked me to do whatever the men tell me in his letter, he knew I could not ...  
- Have you tried to think of what he meant, of what he wants you to do.  
- Yes."  
  
Jason bent his head.  
  
" - And ?" Clarice asked as he was not going on.  
" - He wants me to escape and give up on him. The note is a farewell letter.  
- How would you know ?  
- The signature ... 'Your loving father' ... It is difficult to explain, but I know he would never have written this if he thought we would see each other again.  
- I can hardly imagine a Lecter 'give up' ! Your father should have known that."  
  
Jason smiled. "All I know" he added "is that the last thing he wanted me to do was to contact you. I know him, and he'd rather loose his life than his freedom." Clarice remained silent for a moment, then answered:  
  
" - OK. The kidnappers should contact you on Tuesday. We are on Thursday now. Tomorrow, I have to be in office. I can't avoid it. That means we have three days to find him.  
- Does that mean you're gonna help me ?  
- ... Yes. What I will do after, I have no idea. But the priority is to get your father out of there.  
- Thank you, Clarice.  
- I need to see the place, Jason. See if there is anything I can use to reach them.  
- I can drive you there.  
- Good. Then pick me up at my apartment tomorrow at 7:00 pm, OK ?  
- I'll be there." He handed her a little card. "Meantime, this is my cell phone number. Just in case you need to contact me tomorrow."  
  
She took the card. There was no name on it, just a number.  
  
Jason looked exhausted. Clarice offered him to spend the night on her sofa, but he refused the invitation. "I think I've already used too much of your kindness tonight. I'll let you rest now."  
  
She accompanied him to the door. "Try to get some sleep." she said. "You're gonna need all the energy you can." He nodded and took her hand in his. "Thank you, Clarice, Thank you. I know now that my father was right about you."  
  
He left without giving her the time to answer.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	3. Chapter 03

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Barney (plus anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Thanks to the reviewers of the first chapters. Short chapter but next one is coming soon. I haven't decided yet the degree of romance there will be at the end, FantaC. So, who knows ...  
  
  
**Chapter 3**  
  
Hannibal Lecter was lying in the dark, his wrists and ankles solidly fixed to the bed with strong ropes. Whoever did not known him would have thought he was asleep. His breathing was slow and regular, his body perfectly still. But he was not sleeping.  
  
He was currently exploring the rooms of his memory palace and trying to distract his mind from the pain in his body. And he was partially succeeding. After a while, it became bearable and he could relax further and start to examine his situation.  
  
His attempt to escape had been hazardous. His chances of success were rather poor, but he had had to try. Before they took him away, he had profited that he was alone with one of them to bite his ear and escape his grasp. He had managed reaching the main door and go out, but he did not make more than a dozen yards outside before one of the criminals followed him and shot him in the leg.  
  
He had fallen to the floor and just had the time to throw the knife he had spirited away from his keeper during the fight a few inches away. Then the three men were on him. They had kicked him violently in the head and in his chest. The man he had bitten the ear was raging and his companion had to stop him from killing their prey.  
  
Hannibal had lost consciousness. When he woke up he was lying in the back of a van. One of the men was fixing a tourniquet on his leg to try to stop the bleeding, but the blood loss had been important before he succeeded.  
  
Before they arrived at their destination, the man had put a black cotton bag on Hannibal' s head to blind him. The van had finally stopped. One of the kidnappers had carried him on his back for what had seemed to Hannibal like five minutes. Then he had found himself on a bed. They had tied him up and removed the bag. The room was dark and he could only distinguish the outline of two men. They had rapidly come out and he had heard the click of the lock.  
  
Hannibal had not seen either of the men again. He could not say how long he had been lying here. He was sure he had lost consciousness a few times but had no reference to measure time. As he was starting getting hungry, he figured out at least one day had passed since his arrival. He would have killed for a glass of water. He took a deep breath, but the pain in his chest made him grin.  
  
He tried to make a little inventory ... The bullet had entered his left thigh and broken his femur. He was almost sure the bullet was still inside his leg. He probably had a few broken ribs and they had kicked him hard on the back of his head. From the headache and his losses of consciousness, he could tell he most likely had a cranial trauma.  
  
Hannibal tried to review the possibilities. Getting rid of the knife might not have been such a brilliant idea after all. They did not search him again after the fight. So he could have kept it. Besides, the chances that Jason found it were pretty thin. And even if he did, how could he know what to do with it ? He'd probably think it was his, staff it in a drawer and forget about it. Of course, the fact that they had not killed him, and even cured his wound, was a positive sign. It meant there was a chance they plan to let him go after the ransom was paid. The only problem was that the ransom could never be paid. Jason could not access his money and there was no way a sixteen years old kid could gather four million dollars on his own.  
  
Had he called the police ? Hannibal was almost certain he did not. As he was certain Jason had understood the meaning of the note the kidnappers made him write.  
  
Jason ... Hannibal was not afraid to die. He had lived a pretty full and dangerous life and had got used to the idea. He was not regretting anything he had done. But Jason was another matter. The kid was bright but yet too young to be left on his own.  
  
Although he had never planned to have children, Hannibal loved his son. He had tried to give him everything he could, considering the circumstances of course. He had sent him to the best schools and had furthered himself his education. Jason had made him proud. What would become of him now that his father would no more be there to keep an eye on him ? Alone in the dark, Hannibal Lecter could confess **this** was really hurting.  
  
  
Hannibal knew that his only chance to live was to find a way to escape his kidnappers alone. He could not count on anybody on earth to help him. But right now, there was nothing he could do. So he decided to try to rest. He may need all his strength later.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	4. Chapter 04

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Barney (plus anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
  
**Chapter 4**  
  
As she was approaching her apartment, Clarice saw Jason come out of an old gray van. He waited for her to reach the building.  
  
" - Good evening, Clarice.  
- Good evening. Sorry for being so late, but my boss called me in his office. Have you been waiting long ?  
- It's not a problem. Can I take your bag ?  
- Yes. This is just material I could need. I've packed a few personal things this morning. I just have to pick up my bag upstairs. I won't be a minute.  
- Take your time. I'll wait for you here."  
  
He took the big sports bag Clarice had been carrying and put it in the back of the van. Then he went to sit back in the driver' s seat. About a minute later Clarice joined him. He started the car without a word and entered the traffic. They remained silent for a while, then Clarice asked:  
  
" - Anything new since yesterday ?  
- No. I have searched again the house but did not find anything interesting.  
- Is it far from New York ?  
- About twenty miles. But with the Friday night traffic it may take us one hour or so."  
  
Jason did not feel very talkative tonight. Unlike Clarice ... "You're worried, aren't you ?" she asked. He glanced at her and saw real concern in her eyes. In a strange way, seeing someone else was as preoccupied as he was reassured him. He gave her a smile.  
  
" - Yes, I am. What kills me is not being able to do anything. I spent the whole day turning around in the house like a lion in its cage. I hoped I might found the coordinates of the man who holds my father' s money, but even in that I failed.  
- I know what you mean. I was feeling the same when I was trying to locate your father !" Clarice' s last remark made him laugh. "Good." she said. "I prefer you this way. You're pretty handsome when you laugh.  
- Thanks.  
- You're welcome. Jason, the situation is not really positive right now. I cannot promise you we can get your father out of all this. That would not be fair. But I can swear you we're gonna try everything that's possible, OK ?  
- All right.  
- And I'm gonna need your help on this. So I want you to concentrate on the objective and forget about how the whole story could end. One thing at a time. I realize that what I'm asking you is not easy, but we will be more efficient if we leave emotions aside. Do you understand me ?  
- Perfectly. And you can count on me.  
- Good."  
  
Clarice stretched her legs in the car and made her comfortable for the journey. Jason seemed to relax a bit. They were not talking much but the silence was not heavy. Yet, after a while, Clarice couldn't help saying:  
  
" - I can't believe Hannibal Lecter is living only twenty miles from me ! This is crazy. We've been looking for him all over the world and he was just next door.  
- He once told me that sometimes the most obvious hiding places are also the safest.  
- Yeah. I suppose it makes sense.  
- Can I ask you something ?  
- Sure !  
- Are you still looking for him ? I mean ... are you still in a way or another related to the case ?"  
  
Clarice thought for a moment. She had always considered Hannibal Lecter as **her** case. Even after she had been reassigned. The FBI would probably disagree on this. Though she was not hundred percent sure the Bureau would not call on her if Lecter were to reappear. After all, she was the only living agent who knew him. And she had understood now that they would not hesitate using her if it meant obtaining a result.  
  
" - Not officially." she finally answered. "But it is the duty of any FBI agent to do whatever he can to stop a criminal, even if he is not assigned to the case.  
- It's actually a little bit the duty of any citizen, isn't it ?  
- Right."  
  


* * *

  
Jason had been optimistic and it was past ten when they finally arrived at Lecter' s house. **Mansion** would have been more appropriate, Clarice thought. If not castle.  
  
Jason stopped the van in front of a large gate made of wrought iron and opened it with a little remote control. The gate automatically closed behind them, and they drove for another mile before he parked in front of the house itself. It was a two-story elizabethan construction which looked big enough to accommodate five or six complete families. They both stepped out of the car and Jason took her bags.  
  
"Wow !" she said. "I guess my salary wouldn't be enough to pay for the heating of this thing." He smiled and preceded her to the front door. He unlocked it and let her enter first. If the outside was impressive, it was nothing as compared to the inside. She was not an expert in decoration, but she could tell when someone had taste ... and money. And yet, it did not look like a museum. The house had a soul. And one she could recognize. It looked so much like what she had imagined Hannibal Lecter in that it made her chill. Jason' s voice brought her back to reality.  
  
" - Do you want something to drink ?" he asked, beginning to know her habits.  
" - Not now, thanks. We don't have so much time. I think I'd rather start to work now.  
- All right. What do you want to start with ?  
- Where did you find the letters ?"  
  
He led her to his father' s study. "Here, on the desk." he said. Clarice opened her bag and started to unpack her tools.  
  
" - This is a copy of your father' s file at the FBI. His fingerprints are inside. I have to take yours too, to eliminate doubts.  
- OK.  
- Do you know if other people may have come to this room ?  
- I don't think so. He's rather protective with his privacy. This study is a little bit his private garden. He does not even let the housemaid clean it.  
- The housemaid ?  
- Yes. Mrs. Archamber. She comes twice a week. The rest of the house is probably full of her prints, but not this room.  
- Are there other servants ?  
- Mrs. Archamber' s husband, John. He takes care of the garden.  
- But they don't live here ?  
- No. They live in Ashburg, the nearest village. It's about four miles from here.  
- Do you know when was the last time they came ?  
- They usually come on Mondays and Thursdays. But I called them yesterday and told them not to come. So last time was last Monday.  
- Good. Let's start now."  
  
Clarice took the young man' s fingerprints and then started to pulverize a white powder on the furniture. Jason was standing in a corner of the room and watching her. "Can I help you with anything ?" he asked. As clarice answered negatively he added: "Then I'm gonna cook our dinner. You must start being hungry." And he left.  
  


* * *

  
One hour later, Clarice had joined Jason and they were having a late dinner. She had not found anything conclusive in Dr. Lecter' s study. Not that she had expected to find something, really. But she could not help feeling a little bit disappointed. And so did definitely look Jason too.  
  
" - Um ... That's good." Clarice said as soon as she had tried the food. "What is it ?  
- Truite aux amandes, trout with almonds ... French recipe.  
- I guess your father taught you cooking, am I right ?"  
  
Jason smiled but did not answer. They ate in silence for a couple of minutes. When Clarice rose her face, she saw he was staring at her. His blue eyes had darkened and looked almost black.  
  
" - What are we going to do now ?" he asked.  
" - It's too late and too dark to go on with direct investigations now. But there are a few things I want to check before going to sleep. I did not know if you had a computer, so I brought mine. I think I'm gonna connect after dinner.  
- What kind of things ?  
- Well ... Local and state police first. To see if anything unusual was registered in the area during the last days. Then rental cars and rental houses ... I'd like to have a list of newcomers.  
- Do you really think they rented a car ?  
- I doubt it, but who knows ... Instead, they have to have a place where to keep their hostage. Most likely something a little bit remote.  
- In the area ?  
- Most probably ... My feeling is that they prepared the whole thing. Your father is not the kind of person to be easily surprised. I think they have observed him for some time, watch his habits, before they finally broke in. Much easier to do if you're not far.  
- And you can find this kind of information on the web ?  
- Not all. But if they rented a house regularly, it should have been registered. You'd be surprised by the number of information you can gather on the net, having the proper authorizations.  
- Can I help you ?"  
  
Clarice thought for a moment.  
  
" - I saw he has a laptop on his desk. Do you know his password ?  
- Yes, I do.  
- Then you can try to see if there's anything in it. Start with his mailbox. See if he wrote some notes about anything out of the ordinary.  
- That is ...  
- Jason ! I know this can seem ... indelicate. But I'm sure your father will not mind, given the circumstances.  
- You're right.  
- Did he bought your plane ticket or did you do it yourself ?  
- He did.  
- Do you know how ?  
- No idea.  
- Then check also in the history of his web browser. Go to the last sites he visited. See if there was any travel booking site. Someway the kidnappers knew you were coming. I doubt your father told them. This could be one lead.  
- OK. And then ?  
- Then ... Tomorrow we will inspect the outside of the house. I'd like to talk with the Archamber too. How long have they been working for him ?  
- Four or five years.  
- Anything particular about them ?  
- Nothing that I know of.  
- OK. We'll see."  
  


* * *

  
After they had finished their dinner, they both switched on their respective computers and started to work. They did not talk much, each of them concentrated on his task. Jason did not find anything interesting, except that he tracked down the purchase of his plane ticket. It had been bought via mail from a local travel agency. They would go and visit the place in the next day.  
  
Clarice had established a few lists on which they could start working. She was confident they would finally found the kidnappers. The only issue was time. Would they be able to do this fast enough to save Hannibal Lecter ?  
  
The had not seen time going by and it was past 3:00 am when they finally decided to go to bed. Jason led her upstairs to the guest room he had prepared for her. More than preoccupied, the young man looked sad.  
  
" - Jason, what is it ?" she asked softly. He looked at her.  
" - Nothing.  
- I know it's not nothing. Tell me.  
- ... It's just ... It's just that ... looking into my father's file ... I just found out what he plans to offer me for my birthday. I'd always wanted to visit Greece and ... It will be the first real journey we do together. That is ... If he makes it till then ..."  
  
Clarice put her hands on his cheek and wiped out the tear that was forming at the corner of his eye. "We'll find him, Jason. I promise I'll do anything I can for that." she said.. He gently kissed the palm of her hand and wished her goodnight.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	5. Chapter 05

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Barney (plus anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
  
**Chapter 5**  
  
The frontier between sleep and this extreme state of retreat into his conscience that Hannibal Lecter could achieve was very thin. At least as seen from the outside. Inside instead the difference was huge.  
  
Hannibal had become a master in controlling his emotions. In his waking state, he was always very careful to avoid the dark rooms of his memory palace and not many living human beings could testify they had seen him loose the control of himself. But when sleep grabbed him, the ghosts of his past were materializing in the most terrifying and violent nightmares one could imagine.  
  
His eyes were closed but his body was everything but quiet. Sweat was running down his temples and soaking his shirt, and he was mumbling incomprehensible words.  
  


* * *

  
It was cold, so cold in this barn. Most of the people were lying on the floor, curled in a fetal position, trying to warm each others. Faces he had known his whole life. Servants who had been in the service of his family generation after generation ... and their family. The children were crying, clinging to their mother' s dresses.  
  
Young Hannibal Lecter was not crying though. He was sitting very straight, holding in his lap the most precious treasure he had left, trying to warm up little Mischa, as if he could blow his own life in her little body. Mischa was not crying either. She was pressing her head on her brother' s chest and was softly singing. Although her voice was hardly audible, Hannibal had recognized the lullaby their mother was singing to put them to sleep.  
  
His mother would not sing anymore now.  
  
He hold Mischa closer, as if it could ward off the image of his parents. Mischa put her hand on his shoulder and started to stroke him gently. Hannibal closed his eyes. His sister had always had a skill with people. Even if she was only two, she just had to look at someone to feel his distress. "Andra tutto bene, tesoro. Non ti preoccupare." he whispered, "Everything's gonna be all right".  
  
He did not have time to add anything as the door of the barn flung opened. His whole body tensed up with the feeling of danger. He stared at the door and saw them come in. There were three of them. Their clothes did not look like uniforms anymore. They were drunk and the first one almost fell to the floor when passing the doorstep. One of the men said something to his companions but Hannibal was too far to understand. The other two burst out laughing.  
  
The inhabitants of the barn instinctively retreated against the walls, as if they could become invisible to their visitors. Hannibal felt the body of Mischa slightly tense up. She raised her face to him and what he read in her once beautiful baby eyes scared him to death. She did not utter a single word. She did not have to. They both knew. What was in the look of the two children was a farewell between a brother and a sister who sensed it was the last time they would see each other. Their eyes were feverish but dry. Not one tear was shed.  
  
The three men went forward looking at their preys. The older one kicked an old woman in the back and the other two laughed loudly. They were getting closer now. Hannibal recognized the man who had killed his father. The deserter looked at him and stopped. Hannibal read anger and hate in his eyes, and for the fraction of a second he also saw fear.  
  
"Why are you looking at me like this ?" he barked. The young boy bent his head in sign of submission, in a desperate attempt to escape fate. But the man walked to him and grabbed the child' s hair. He forced Hannibal to look at him. "I asked you a question." he shouted, getting the attention of the others, "There's something with me you don't like ? You, son of a bitch ...".  
  
Mischa' s little nails were now staved so deeply in his brother's back than when the soldier lifted her by the arm, Hannibal felt his flesh tear and warm blood show on the surface of his skin.  
  
The little girl was hanging in the air, her right arm imprisoned in the man' s large hand. But she was still staring at her brother. No fear in her eyes. Hannibal stood up and tried to reach her but another soldier who had joined them threw him back on the floor as easily as he would have swept away a fly. The three men chuckled. "Was willst du machen, kleinstes Ferkel ?" And they laughed louder.  
  
Hannibal was petrified. His mouth stayed ridiculously opened but no sound could pass his lips. He was watching the men take away her sister and his muscles were refusing to obey.  
  
As the three deserters were half their way to the door, a young woman Hannibal had not noticed before stood up and intervened. She was not very tall but despite starvation she looked strong and determined. "Children ! That's all you're able to fight, you dirty pigs !" she shouted. "Why don't you try to confront with someone your size ?" Her eyes were shining with fury.  
  
The young Hannibal was certain he had never seen this woman before. But his lips involuntarily formed a word. "Clarice ..." he whispered. He had no idea why but he knew it was her name.  
  
The woman was raging and apparently ignored fear. She rushed on the man that was still holding the child and tried to pull Mischa out of his grip. The man tried to throw her away with his free arm but did not succeed. One of his companion came to his help and grabbed the woman' s shoulder, trying to pull her out. But in the twinkling of an eye she threw her feet between his legs and he had to retreat, howling with pain.  
  
The struggle was harsh but lasted less than a minute. Finally the three men combined their efforts and the young woman hit the floor. One of the men put his boot on her face and maintained her on the floor. She didn't move but Hannibal could still see the flames of rage coming out of her eyes.  
  
The boy was till staring at the woman on the floor when the voice of his sister suddenly startled him and made him shiver. He raised his face.  
  
Mischa was in the arms of the soldier now and she was staring at him. "Hannibal ?" she said. Her voice was as clear as water running from a spring. There was no fear in it, only lack of understanding ... and disappointment. Hannibal felt as if a vise was hugging his heart. The world around the two children had frozen, time suspended. The pure voice of Mischa rose in the surrounding silence. "Hannibal, save me ! Why don't you try to save me ? You said you loved me ...". The pain in the little boy's chest was intolerable. He felt his body was about to explode, but yet he was not able to speak a single word. "You said you would protect me, always. Was it a lie ?" the little girl went on. "They are taking me away, Hannibal ... For ever ... And you don't move. You did not try anything to stop them. Clarice tried. She stood up and tried to save me. But you, you remain there and you watch and you don't even try ... You were right when you said Clarice was brave and just. She is someone you can rely upon. I thought you were too ... Don't you want to save me ? Don't you love me ?"  
  
The muffled rumbling started from the deepest part of his guts and rose through his whole body until it finally invaded his lungs and throat and came to his mouth. And he started to howl ...  
  


* * *

  
The door slammed and the handle hit the wall. Hannibal jumped in his bed, his eyes wide opened, still full of the image of his sister calling for help. His breathing was suspended and he had to force himself to let air enter his lungs. He turned at the door.  
  
The man was standing in the doorstep looking at him. Hannibal saw he was not alone but could merely distinguish vague shapes. "Lunch time !" the man barked at him. "This is all you're gonna have for today, so you'd better savor every bit of it." Hannibal saw the man put what looked at a tray on the floor and push it to the bed with his foot. Then he got away from the door and got closer to the bed.  
  
"I am going to detach you. But my friend here will keep an eye on you." He indicated the man that had stayed outside the room. Hannibal could not see his face but he clearly distinguished the barrel of a gun pointed at him. Once the one who seemed to be the boss got certain his hostage had understood the point, he went on: "It is pointed at your head, and will remain like that. So ... I recommend you stay quiet and don't try your chance, right ?"  
  
"Understood." Hannibal answered. The man approached the bed and took a knife out of his pocket. He moved quietly around Hannibal but took care never to find himself between Hannibal' s head and the gun. Hannibal appreciated the way he was manipulating his knife. And he was a connoisseur ... It took him only a few seconds to cut all the bonds.  
  
The second after he was gone and the door was closed, putting back the room in half light.  
  
Hannibal laid back on the bed but did not close his eyes. The last thing he wished for was to fall asleep again. He remained like that for five minutes, staring at the ceiling and breathing deeply to try to stop his body from shaking. After a while, his eyes got used to darkness and he managed to calm down. His whole body was wet with sweat and the cold air was making him shiver. But he did not care.  
  
Recollections of his nightmare started to come back to him. It was not the first time he had dreamt of that day ... the last day of his sister. And it would probably not be the last one either. But it was certainly the first time Clarice was in this dream ...  
  
As tension slowly melt away, incredulity replaced it. It had been some time since he had not dreamt of Clarice Starling. And every time he had in the past, these were always pleasant dreams ... even if the waking up was a bit crude. Why was she appearing to him **now** ? And why in such a nightmare ? Hannibal thought of it for a few minutes but did not come to any explanation.  
  
As sadness was threatening to overcome him, he shook himself and decided he would figure this out later. He glanced at the tray the man had left. He could not see what was on it but did not expect much. Well, he smiled, his own standards in terms of cooking might be a little bit too high for this place.  
  
He thoughtlessly moved to his side to try to reach the tray, but the sudden pain in his injured leg harshly brought him back to reality. He grinned and took a few deep breaths. When he had recovered a bit, he carefully moved his arm to the tray, trying to move the rest of his body as less as possible. The operation took him about ten minutes but the pain remained bearable.  
  
When he finally had the plate in front of him, he almost regretted his efforts. Just the smell of it was giving him nausea. But he had to regain some strength, so he began to eat.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	6. Chapter 06

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: THANKS A LOT to all reviewers of the previous chapters. Took a while to write this one because ... No. No excuse. I'm just lazy. Hope you like it. BTW: I have absolutely no experience with the FBI. Neither did I ever participate to any police investigation. So there might be some errors in this chapter, but .. Hey, it's just a fanfic. So don't shoot me.  
  
  
**Chapter 6**  
  
Clarice woke up at around seven, and though she had slept less than four hours, she was feeling rested and ready for the day. Although she would never admit it loudly, she knew perfectly well what gave her this energy. The smell of the chase ... Only now did she realize how much she had missed it in the last year. She could almost feel the adrenaline run in her vein.  
  
She got up and went to take a quick shower. Ten minutes later she went down the stairs and in the kitchen.  
  
Jason had apparently been up for quite some time and was having his breakfast. He stood up when she entered the room.  
  
" - I did not expect to see you so early." he said. "Did you sleep well ?  
- Like a baby. Thanks. What about you ?  
- I don't need much sleep. How would you like your eggs ?  
- Well, usually I just take a coffee ... But after all, this is no usual day. I think I would appreciate fried eggs with a slice of bacon. But I can prepare it ...  
- Please, allow me. Just sit down."  
  
Clarice complied and he brought her a cup of coffee. Then he went back to the stove and started preparing her breakfast. He was turning his back to her. Clarice could not help watching him. It was not so much the physical resemblance between Jason and Hannibal Lecter that stroke her, but their manners, the way they talked or moved. Staring at the young man cooking her eggs, she could not help seeing Lecter back in Krendler' s house, preparing this very special dinner. Jason had the strange sort of elegance his father had, no doubt about it.  
  
He suddenly turned his face back to her, as if he had sensed she was observing him. He did not say anything, but she could clearly see the question marks in his eyes. He came back to the table, laid her plate and a glass of fresh made orange juice before her and went to sit in front of her, sipping coffee from a large mug. She started to eat in silence.  
  
" - Hmm ... these are delicious." she said after a while. "You're really a hell of a cook.  
- Thank you."  
  
He was staring at her and that made her slightly uncomfortable. She finished her breakfast quickly. "So ..." she said, "What if we start working ?"  
  


* * *

  
They both went outside the house and started to carefully look for clues. They started from the front door and progressively enlarged the circle.  
  
Exploring the bushes close to the steps, Jason found a piece of cloth attached to one branch. It was blue nylon, the kind of fabric Hannibal Lecter would be reluctant to wear. It could be useful to confirm an identification, but could not really be considered as a lead to find the kidnappers.  
  
The tire print that Clarice found instead was more interesting. The tire was large and the vehicle was probably heavier than a regular sedan, but not as heavy as a truck. Probably a small van or a big 4-wheel. The pattern on the tire itself was pretty particular as well, and rather marked. It was most certainly new. Clarice went back inside and took some of the tools she had brought with her. She took some close shots, then with infinite precautions she made a cast of the print with plaster. She would scan the photos and make some researches on the internet. Maybe she could find the brand of the tire, or even the one of the car.  
  
After two hours searching, they had not found anything else. Clarice decided it was useless going on. They went inside and turned back to their respective computers. Clarice entrusted Jason with the mission of tracking the tire, while she would deal with the travel agency that had sold his plane ticket.  
  
At the end of the morning they got the first positive results. The tire was a Dunlop Rover Mud radial. The design was rather characteristic. They were used mainly for rally cars and sport trucks. Jason got a list of retailers in a two hundred miles area. They were not so numerous and he started calling them one by one. It took him about one hour and he got a list of three possible cars and descriptions: two Range Rover and a Ford pickup. He even got the plate number for one of the Range Rover. Clarice investigated this one and rapidly excluded its owner as potential suspect.  
  
The travel agency instead did not give anything conclusive. It was ran by an old woman who had never met Lecter but had already sold him tickets via mail in the past. She was working alone and when Clarice had suggested she might have talked about the trade to someone else, she defended her professionalism with such force that Clarice believed her.  
  
They had a quick lunch in the kitchen and then left for Ashburg. They would first go and meet the Archamber, then they would go to each gas station in the area to check if someone had noticed one of the two cars for which Jason had had the description.  
  


* * *

  
It was half past seven when Clarice and Jason finally returned to Lecter' s mansion. they were both exhausted but the morale was a little bit higher. The Archamber had not given them anything new. Hannibal Lecter had behaved as usual on Monday and they had not noticed anything strange in the area.  
  
However, they had been luckier with the gas stations. About four miles from Ashburg, lost in the country side, one gas pump attendant had actually remembered a Range Rover corresponding to their description. He had noticed it because the inside was equipped like those racing cars he had seen on TV. The two men inside the car were not from the area. Or at least he had never seen them before. He gave Clarice a pretty detailed description of them. Clarice had given the man a card with her cell phone number and asked him to call her in case he would see the car again.  
  
On their way home, they had stopped at a few shops and asked if anyone had seen the car or one of the two men. They were about to give up when finally a clerk in Ashburg little supermarket identified one of the men from his description. They did not get further information from him, but it was at least the confirmation of the testimony of the gas pump attendant.  
  
Clarice wanted to have a look at the VICAP site to see if she could make the descriptions match to a name.  
  
Jason stopped the car right in front of the porch. "I'll leave you here." he said. "I'm gonna put the car in the garage." She thanked him for the attention and stepped out of the car. As Jason was backing away, the headlights of his car lighted up the path and for a fraction of a second Clarice thought she had seen something shine. She shouted at him and asked him to come forward again as slowly as possible. When she saw it again, she stopped him.  
  
Jason complied, stepped out of the car and crouched down near Clarice. She was scratching the soil with her pocket knife. "What is it ?" Jason asked. She did not answer immediately. When she thought she had enough earth on the blade of her knife she stood up and went closer to the headlights to examine the sample. Jason followed her. "Clarice, what is it ?" he asked again after a while. She turned her face to him. "I can't be sure hundred percent before I analyze it" she started, "but it sure looks like blood."  
  
Even in the scarce light she could see the fear on the kid' s face. "We don't know whose blood it is, Jason. And we're not even sure it is blood. Come on ... Can you get me a flashlight and a little plastic bag ?" He nodded and ran to the kitchen. Ten seconds later he was back with what she had asked him for. She carefully took another sample and put it in the bag. Then they both went inside the house.  
  
I took Clarice half an hour to make a rough analysis. Neither she nor Jason uttered a single word during the process. When she was finished she looked at him. She did not have to phrase her conclusion, he understood immediately.  
  
" - It **is **blood." she confirmed.  
" - My father's ?  
- I don't know, Jason. I am not equipped for tis kind of analysis. Only if we take this to a lab, can we know if it is his blood type. And even then ... Anyway, we cannot just go to a laboratory like that. There would be some questions, and I don't see what kind of answers we could give."  
  
The consequences of the finding was clear to both of them. The kidnapping had not gone smoothly. There had been a fight. Lecter could have been injured ... Could be dead by now.  
  
" - The blood spot was tiny." she said, to try to reassure him. "We did not even saw it this morning. There would have been more if someone had been seriously injured.  
- Unless somebody has cleaned the place after.  
- Possible ... We'd better see if we can find others. Get yourself another flashlight."  
  
They both started to search the soil again. Jason spotted a second trace. Then they found a third one. Clarice extrapolated a possible itinerary from the first spots and they followed it. Soon they found other traces. As they were going further, the blood spots were getting larger. Until they finally found a ten inches long dark stain. Clarice crouched down, touched it and smelled her fingers. She nodded.  
  
She stood up and started scanning the area with her flashlight. About 6 ft away from where they were standing, a little metal object suddenly reflected the light. Jason had seen it too and rushed to it. "Don't touch it !" Clarice shouted at him. He stopped just in time.  
  
She joined him and had a closer look. It was a pocket knife. It was open and lying under a leaf, but the blade was partially visible. Clarice delicately removed the leaf. "There's no blood on the blade." she whispered. She lifted the knife with pliers, holding it by the blade, and slipped it in one of the plastic bags she had brought. She raised it in front of Jason' s face.  
  
" - Does it look like one of your father' s ?" she asked. Jason concentrated.  
" - I've never seen it before ... Besides, it's not the kind of stuff he usually uses. He would rather have a good harpy, or a hunting knife. This looks like the cheap thing you can get from a supermarket."  
  
Clarice nodded. "Let's see if there's something else".  
  
They went on looking around for another hour or so. When it became obvious they would not find anything else that night they retreated to the house. In Hannibal Lecter' s study, Clarice had a deeper examination of the knife and started to look for fingerprints. She found three distinct ones, a thumb and an index finger on the handle and one thumb on the blade. She captured and scanned them.  
  
" - The one on the blade belongs to your father. The other two, on the handle, do not match.  
- What does it mean ?  
- I guess that the knife does not belong to your father, but that he had it in his hands.  
- Do you think it could belong to one of his kidnappers ?  
- ... I don't know ... But it's possible ... If your father had borrowed someone else' s knife, Mr. Archamber' s for instance, to use it, then we would have found his fingerprints on the handle, not on the blade.  
- Sounds logical. But on the other hand, if my father had managed to spirit the knife away from one of his attackers, then why would he have left it here. It's too far from the blood spot to have just fallen from his pocket ... I mean ... if the blood is his."  
  
Clarice thought of it for a moment.  
  
" - Maybe he put it there on purpose ..." she finally murmured. Jason looked at her, puzzled.  
" - Why would he do such a thing ?  
- For you to find it ? ... Maybe he figured out the knife would be more useful as a clue for you, rather than in his pocket, where the kidnappers could find it anyway.  
- You really believe this could be the explanation ?  
- I don't know, Jason. I'm just trying to understand, just like you. But for the moment I don't see any other possibility. Besides, if your father really made up such a plan, that means his general conditions were not so bad, and that he was conscious."  
  
She saw a brief sparkle of hope in Jason' s eyes. "All right," she said. "Let's see if these prints ring a bell in our files !"   
  
She started with the VICAP files, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, but did not find anything. Then she connected to other FBI databases, but her attempts were not more successful. The only possibility left were the state police files. These were not centralized and she would have to connect to them individually, one for each state of the Union. As she had no specific information, she decided to use alphabetical order. So ... Let's start with Alabama. "Jason, do you think you can get us some coffee ?" she asked. Jason stood up and went to prepare strong italian espresso.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice' s eyes were starting to hurt. It was half past three and she had just finished scanning Ohio criminal records ... unsuccessfully. She poured herself another cup of coffee. Jason had fallen asleep at Nevada. His head was resting on the desk cradled in his arms. His short black hair had lost the impeccable cut it usually had and he looked much younger ... and much more fragile. She had a small smile and went back to her task.  
  
Half an hour in Ohio, and then she started with Oklahoma. The server was slow and the search engine not so convenient. But after a while she finally found a way to check the database: nothing. She was beginning to think she would not find anything this way.  
  
Oregon. The site was much more modern and user-friendly. She rapidly uploaded the fingerprints she had scanned and launch the search.   
  
Meantime, she went to the kitchen to see if she could find something to eat. Her stomach had started to rumble somewhere between Missouri and Montana and starving would help her. She found some cheese in the fridge and made herself a sandwich. She grabbed a beer too and went back to Lecter' s study.  
  
She almost dropped the food and drink on the floor when she entered the room. The picture of a rather naughty looking man was displayed on her computer screen. She hardly believed it. She ran to the desk and read the form ...   
  
Nathan Willinger, aka Nat Willings, aka Nathaniel Willmaker ... Recidivist burglar ... Arrested six years ago for complicity in a bank robbery in Portland ... Release on parole one year ago ... Reported missing by his parole officer a little more than two weeks ago ...  
  
Bingo !  
  
Clarice looked at his physical characteristics ... 5 ft 9 ... 210 pounds ... hair blond ... eyes pale blue ... It corresponded to the physical description they had of the driver of the Range Rover.  
  
"Nathan, I got you !" She said loudly. Jason raised his head and pointed two sleepy eyes at her. She laughed. "Jason, wake up ! I've got him !" In the twinkling of an eye Jason was fully awaken. He stood up and bent on Clarice' s shoulder to watch the screen. Clarice pushed her chair aside to let him see better. "Jason Mc Namara, let me introduce Mr. Nathan Willinger ... The man who kidnapped your father."  
  
Jason looked at her in disbelief.  
  
" - The fingerprints ?" he asked  
" - Yes. And the description corresponds.  
- Where did you find him ?  
- Portland, Oregon.  
-Wow !"  
  
He gave her a big kiss on the cheek. "Clarice, I love you !". It was so spontaneous that it made her laugh.  
  
" - What do we do now ?" Jason asked, his voice now full of enthusiasm.  
" - We go on searching. But now we know who we're looking for. And believe me, **that **makes a difference. First let me print this ...  
- Please forgive my stupid questions, but what exactly are we looking for, now ?  
- It's not stupid. First of all, I want to know what Mr. Portland Oregon is doing in New York. I don't believe in coincidences. Willinger can't have heard of your father in Portland. He was released on parole. He presented himself for the weekly controls during eleven months or so. But his parole officer has not seen him in the last two weeks. There must have been a very important reason for him to leave Portland. If he had simply decided to escape the justice, he would have done it much sooner ... not eleven months after his release.  
...  
- You mean it was all part of a plan ?  
- That's precisely what I mean. And that means it has all been prepared long in advance. And that means the rich Mr. Mc Namara had been under surveillance for a while. And Willinger cannot have done it from Oregon.  
- So he had an accomplice here.  
- Yes. And probably someone from the area.  
- Why ?  
- Well, tell me if I'm wrong, but your father does not exactly make much publicity about himself, does he ?  
- Certainly not.  
- That's what I thought. In fact, I can imagine he's been trying to draw as less attention as possible.  
- Means only someone living here could have heard of him.  
- Right."  
  
While Jason was trying to assimilate the information, Clarice took a mouthful of her sandwich, followed by a gulp of beer.  
  
" - Someone my father knows, you think ?  
- Not necessarily. But someone living not too far, and from some time.  
- And how do we find him ?  
- Searching Willinger' s past. His known friends, girlfriends, accomplices, cell companions ...  
- And we can find that in your files ?  
- Sure ! But before, we both need to get some sleep.  
- I'm not tired !" the young man protested. Clarice gave him a maternal smile.  
- Yes you are. And so am I."  
  
Before he could argue again, she added: "Jason, I am as eager as you are to catch them ... and find your father. But I don't want to run the risk to miss something because we're exhausted. We still have two full days. We will make it. Trust me."  
  
For a few seconds, his piercing blue eyes dived into Clarice' s ones. Then he nodded. "I trust you, Clarice." he simply answered. Then they both went to take a few hours of well deserved sleep.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	7. Chapter 07

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
  
**Chapter 7**  
  
A plastic fork was certainly not the best tool for what he was trying to do, but that was all Hannibal Lecter had at his disposal for the moment. He carefully brought the prongs of the fork to his left thigh and slipped them under the bandage that was surrounding his leg. Then he started to  
methodically carve in the wound. He was so concentrated on his task that he did not feel the pain.  
  
He knew he had to hurry for the men would soon come back to take the tray and tie him up again. When he finally felt the warmth of the blood on his skin, he pulled back the fork and rubbed it on his trousers. Then he put it back on the tray where his dinner was still untouched. And he laid back in the bed and prepared for the show.  
  
A few minutes later he heard the steps of his guardians, and the cold click of the lock. He started to moan softly. The door opened. Hannibal did not react but he could see threw his half opened eyes the shadows of the two men. He moved slightly and moaned a little louder.  
  
He heard one of the man walk to the bed and take the tray that was still on the floor. He passed it to his companion and came closer. Instantly, Hannibal evaluated his chance of success in a frontal attack and decided to stick to his initial plan. Now was not the right time.  
  
He felt something hard push on his arm. He opened his eyes slowly and turn his head to his keeper. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, as if under violent pain. The man hesitated for a moment but finally crouched down next to Hannibal. "You should have eaten your dinner, man." he said. "You know you won't have anything else before tomorrow." His breath was smelling like hell. Hannibal did not fake his grin.  
  
"Not hungry" he whispered. The man stood up. "You don't look so well" he said, with as much feeling in his tone as if he had been speaking of the weather. Hannibal opened his eyes again. "It's ... my leg" he said. His voice was hoarse. "I think it ... started bleeding ... again". The man sighed and without a word began to tie his prisoner to the bed again. Hannibal groaned when the man roped his left foot. He felt a hand pass briefly under his thigh, but that was all the reaction he got. He heard the man go out and the door shut, and the room was in the dark again.  
  
Hannibal started to wait in silence. Just as he was beginning to think his maneuver had been vain, he heard some noise coming from the other side of the door. Act two was coming.  
  
The door opened and Hannibal felt a man was approaching. He did not open his eyes before he felt the breath of the man on his face. It was not the same that was usually bringing his dinner, but the one who seemed to be the boss. The smell of his breath was much better, almost pleasant, and he had always been courteous to Lecter.  
  
"So ..." he said softly. "My friend here says you have problems with your leg ?". Hannibal opened his eyes and nodded. "All right," the man said. "Let's see ...".  
  
He switch on a big spirit lamp he had brought with him and the unusual brightness made Hannibal' s eyes flicker. Then the man delicately undid the knot on Lecter' s left ankle. He slightly turn his leg to have access to the wound and released the bandage. "Hmm ... Yes, it's bleeding again. We have to stop that. You've lost too much blood already. We promised your son we would deliver you in good conditions ... We wouldn't like to be caught lying, would we ?". He looked closer at the wound. "Maybe I should clean it too." He took a towel and Hannibal saw him poor something on it. Then he pressed it on the bleeding wound.  
  
The alcohol felt like fire but Hannibal managed to control himself. Instead, he faked to be out of breath and said: "It ... hurts when I ... I move. I think ... it's broken." The man nodded but did not answer. Instead, he went on cleaning the wound and made a new bandage, as tight as possible to stop the bleeding.  
  
He gave his 'patient' a little time to recover, then he said: "OK, let's see." He slowly started to lift the leg from the bed, holding it by the heel. Hannibal did not have to fake pain this time. He felt as if a knife was going through his thigh and could not prevent a little cry to pass his lips.  
  
" - Yes," the man said, "it's probably broken. I'm really sorry, Mr. Mc Namara, but none of this would have happened if you had done what we told you, right ?  
- What would you ... have done ... in my place ?  
- ... Probably the same thing." the man chuckled and Hannibal did not like his laugh. Even if his manners were correct, they were just a facade. And cruelty was lying behind. "You do understand we cannot take you to a doctor or a hospital, don't you ?  
- Really ?" Hannibal' s voice had been sarcastic and he saw a brief lightning of rage in the man' s eyes. He closed his eyes in sign of submission, then went on: "Maybe if ... you could immobilize ... the leg ...  
- Yes. A splint would probably help."  
  
The man put his hand on Hannibal' s forehead. "You've got high fever too." he said. Hannibal knew it was normal considering the cranial trauma he most certainly had, but preferred to let his keeper fear a possible infection. Then the man turned to one of his companions who had been waiting outside the room. Most likely with a loaded gun pointed at his head, Hannibal thought, these men were being very cautious.  
  
"If he makes a single move, shoot him in the other leg." he simply said. Then he got up and left the room.  
  
When he returned a few minutes after, he had some wooden boards and other stuff in his hands. He sat on the bed and started to make a splint. Each movement of his leg provoked excruciating pain in Hannibal' s whole body. He managed to resist for a while, but finally lost consciousness before the end of the process.  
  


* * *

  
When Hannibal Lecter woke up again the two men had left and it was dark again. After having fully recovered his senses, he realized that the ropes on his wrists and ankles had been removed. Instead a single pair of handcuffs was linking his right hand to one of the bed posts. He checked out his leg. The boards had been expertly fixed using two leather belts and he could no more move his joints. Pain was more than reasonable now that movements were impossible.  
  
He sat on the bed and slowly move his leg to the edge. Putting his whole weight on his right foot, he managed standing up for the first time in days. He even made a few steps hopping along.  
  
For sure, he wouldn't run for the olympics but at least he could move. His primary objective had been reached and he smiled in the dark. Now he was ready. All he had to do was to wait for the right occasion.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	8. Chapter 08

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: THANKS for the reviews everybody. I liked the idea of the plastic harpy, Frylock. But it's not part of the plan right now. Maybe I can recycle it in another story though ... And now, on with the story.  
  
  
**Chapter 8**  
  
The sun was already high in the sky when Clarice and Jason went back to work on Sunday morning. The day was nice and sun beams were entering through Hannibal Lecter' s study large window.  
  
The program for the day was pretty simple: the life and relationships of Nathan Willinger. Clarice started by reconnecting to the Oregon criminal record database and printed all she could find about the man. She instructed Jason on how to proceed with the research and connected for him to a few useful sites on Lecter' s laptop. She divided the work and they both concentrated on their respective tasks.  
  
The biography of Willinger was quite a surprise. His criminal records were rather typical of a kid brought up in the dregs without any parental guidance. But the beginning of his life had been the opposite.  
  
He was born the elder child of a rather wealthy family of Portland. His father was an associate in one of the most prestigious law firm of the state and his mother was teaching literature at university. He had two younger sisters and one brother, all well integrated in the Portland society now.  
  
His childhood had been quiet and very much what one would expected considering his family: private school, piano lessons, holidays in the Bahamas, skiing in Vermont or in Switzerland in winter, ... The first recorded incident took place when he was fourteen. One evening he had been arrested while driving his mother' s car, obviously without license, and without his parents knowing it either. There had been no accident and as the teen' s records were stainless, he got out of it with a mere warning and a fine his father quickly paid.  
  
Though the story seemed not very serious, it appeared it had marked a turning point in the child' s life. His performances at school had suddenly and rapidly decreased, as much as the punishments for lack of discipline had increased. The reports of the school psychologist, whom he had started to visit more and more frequently, mentioned that Willinger had an intelligence well above the average, but had difficulties with self-control. Willinger was diagnosed as unstable and unable to concentrate on one thing for a reasonable period of time.  
  
A year or so after, his parents had apparently decided to put him in a boarding school. To teach him discipline, Clarice thought. Classical parent' s reaction ... with generally disappointing results though. The strategy seemed to work for a few months, until Nathan was accused along with three of his friends to have attacked and cruelly tortured one of their fellow student. It looked like a classical racketeering story, but the violence used again the victim was not common.  
  
The boarding school was a very respectable institution and did not want unnecessary publicity. The case had been closed without legal proceedings, but Nathan and his friends had been gently asked to go studying somewhere else.  
  
Again, there had been a period of peace in Willinger' s life. It lasted a few years this time. He finished high school and registered at the university of Oregon in the law department, apparently following his father' s tracks and preparing for the succession. Was that just a facade or had Willinger really calmed down ? Nobody had been able to tell.  
  
His promising career had ended before it had even started when, at the age of twenty-one, Willinger was arrested for having taken part in a sordid burglary. There had been no easy way out that time, and he had been sentenced to two years.  
  
From that moment on, Willinger' s existence had only been a succession of going in and getting out of various cells. He had never been convicted as the brain of the operations, though. Merely an accomplice. The last records were about a bank robbery in which he was the driver and for which he served six years in St Paul' s penitentiary.  
  
He had been released a year ago and had apparently stayed quiet. He was working as a clerk in a furniture shop and was never late to his appointments with his parole officer ... until two weeks ago.  
  
  
Jason was dealing with Willinger' s cell mates, while Clarice was investigating on his convicted or alleged accomplices. The task was tedious and after the first two hours of enthusiasm, both of them started to yawn regularly.  
  
The first part was quite simple. Clarice had found and printed a map of the area. The biography of each known acquaintance of Willinger was studied, and if the subject had been at some point in his life registered in a range of a hundred miles from Lecter' s house, then his file was to be set apart for further investigation.  
  
Clarice was the first one to find a possible suspect. Clive Leach had participated to Willinger' s second robbery case. Before that, he had lived a couple of years in Birmington, a little town distant of thirty five miles from where they were. This first finding gave both Clarice and Jason courage and they went on with the work more heartily.  
  
At four in the afternoon, they had both come to the end of their respective lists. For a total of six possible suspects. Clarice knew that the possibility that one of the kidnappers was among these six people was very thin. But this was all they had. So she took the files and started to study them further in details.  
  
She took the phone on Lecter' s desk and dialed the number of Leach' s mother. A young female voice answered after a few seconds. She couldn't possibly be Mrs. Leach. Clarice pretended she was an employee of Baylor Insurance and was in charge of updating old files or closing them. She asked to speak with Mrs. Martha Leach. There were a few seconds of silence, then the woman on the phone seemed to finally understand what she was talking about.  
  
" - Oh ! You mean the former tenant !" she said.  
" - I don't know. This is the last coordinates we have here.  
- Yes. Mrs. Leach. I'm sorry but I'm afraid you can close your file. Mrs. Leach died about two years ago from what I understood.  
- I see. Do you know by any chance if she still has some family I could contact ?  
- I've no idea. I never met her. My husband and I bought the house a few weeks after she passed away.  
- I understand. Sorry to have disturbed you.  
- No problem. Good luck."  
  
Clarice looked at Jason.   
  
" - Dead." she said.  
" - It's not gonna be easy.  
- We'll find a way."  
  
Leach had a sister, Sharon, but her phone number or address was not mentioned in his file. Clarice connected to one on-line directory and started her search. Leach' s sister was married at the time of his trial. Clarice began to look for her husband' s name. There were exactly eighteen Philip M. Browning in the directory. She sigh but picked up the phone and dialed the first number.  
  
Clarice changed her story and introduced herself as Sarah Dogan, working in the administration department of Portland court, and trying to find a Clive Leach for a problem of unpaid procedure expenses. When the eleventh Philip Browning she called confirmed he was the husband of Sharon Browning, previously Leach, Clarice felt her luck was coming back.  
  
But it did not last more than a few seconds. His wife was not home but Browning informed Clarice that she could find Clive Leach in Armory penitentiary, North Carolina, where he was serving a twenty years sentence. Clarice thanked him and hanged up. She did not have to say anything. Jason understood at once. Clarice crossed out Leach' s name from her list. Next ...  
  
Her next three attempts were not more successful. One was dead; one had apparently completely changed life and was now a respectable car salesman somewhere in Nevada; and the third one had moved to England before Willinger was released from jail.  
  
It was 7:30 pm already and Clarice was starting feeling hungry and tired. She decided she needed a little break. In the last hours, Jason had had nothing to do but to listen to her making her phone calls. Clarice could see tension and discouragement grow on his face minute after minute.  
  
" - Would you prepare me something to eat ?" she asked.  
" - Of course. What would you want ?  
- Pasta ? But don't bother with the sauce.  
- No bother." he answered smiling. "That will keep me busy."  
  
Once he had left the room, Clarice closed her yes and tried to think of what they could do if the two remaining names on the list did not give anything. Of course, they could always wander through the area with the picture of Willinger and pray someone would recognize him. But the land was vast, much too vast to be covered in one day if they had not a single idea of where to start. Then they would only rely on luck. And luck had never been a major factor in Clarice Starling' s life.  
  
She sighed and looked back at the list. Harold Menendez. She took the stuff Jason had printed on him.  
  
Menendez had shared Willinger' s cell for nearly two years at St Paul. He was there for drug dealing and had been released about six months before Willinger. Clarice went on reading. There was an ex-wife in San Diego. It was worth trying. Once again she picked up the phone and dialed a number. It rang eight times before someone finally answered.  
  
" - Allo.  
- Good evening. Mrs. Menendez ?" There was silence at the other end of the line. "Am I speaking with Mrs. Rachel Menendez ?" Clarice repeated.  
" - Who are you ?"  
  
Clarice could feel the anxiety in the woman' s voice. A mix of fear and anger. Something she had heard before. She decided to change strategy.  
  
" - Mrs. Menendez, my name is Sarah Dogan. Special agent Dogan, from the FBI. I'd like to ask you a few questions.  
- The FBI ? What the hell ...  
- It's about your husband, Mrs. Menendez.  
- My **ex**-husband.  
- Yes, I know. But ...  
- What has he done this time ?  
- It's just routine investigation, Mrs. Menendez ... At least for the moment. But I am not authorized to give you more details. I am trying to locate your ex-husband and I wondered if you had had contacts with him recently.  
- No. Not recently. Now I must go out and I'm already late so ...  
- It is very important, Mrs. Menendez."  
  
Again there was silence. For a moment, Clarice feared the woman would just hang up on her. But she didn't.  
  
" - The last news I received from my dear husband was in the shape of a little coffin he made of a piece of wood. He packed it neatly and sent it to me ... My name was carved on it.  
- I see ... Mrs. Menendez, I understand this is not easy for you, but ... When did the parcel arrive ?  
- About three months ago.  
- Do you remember if there was any indication on it, something telling where it had been sent from ?  
- ... "  
  
She had not hanged up. Clarice could feel there was more to it. But she could also feel the fear, almost smell it threw the receiver.  
  
" - Mrs. Menendez ?  
- ... Greyson.  
- Greyson ?  
- This is what was written on the parcel. Greyson."  
  
Clarice frantically grabbed the map. "Could you spell it for me, Mrs. Menendez ?" The woman complied and Clarice wrote it down.  
  
" - That's all I know, OK. I don't want to have anything to do with that son of a bitch ever again. So leave me in peace now.  
- All right. Thank you very much, Mrs. Menendez.  
- And ... Agent Dogan, if Harry discovers I spoke to you, I'm dead. do you understand that ?  
- He won't know it. That, I can promise you.  
- He's a monster. Believe me ...  
- I won't even mention your name in the file. As far as I'm concerned, this conversation has never happened.  
- Good. I'll hang up now. Don't call me again.  
- OK. Thanks again.  
...  
- Agent Dogan ...  
- Yes ?  
- If you find him ... kill him."  
  
And then the line was cut. Clarice put down the receiver and bent on the map. Her finger was running on it inch by inch. Greyson was sounding familiar, but where had she seen it ? Her eyes were tired and excitement made her very slightly shake. And suddenly it was there. Just under her index finger. Greyson. A little town about thirty miles away ...  
  
Clarice sat back on her chair and took a deep breath. Willinger' s fingerprints first, and now Greyson and Menendez ... After all, maybe luck was on her side this time. She stood up and joined Jason in the kitchen.  
  


* * *

  
Jason was standing by the stove, busy with their dinner. He turned back to her when he heard her steps on the kitchen floor. "Will be ready in five minutes." he said. "Just sit down and help yourself a glass of ..." Jason realized something had happened and froze in the middle of his sentence.  
  
" - What ?" he asked, is voice being merely a whisper.  
" - We've got one.  
- We've got one ? One what ?  
- One of the names on the list. Harold Menendez. He lives near Greyson, or at least he was there three months ago. It's thirty miles from here.  
- Yeah. I know where Greyson is. I've been there a number of times."  
  
Clarice could not help shivering.  
  
" - You've been there ?  
- Yes. They have the only shooting gallery in the area. It is where my father taught me how to use a gun.  
- You went there recently ?  
- During my last visit. About two months ago. He always bring me there at least once each time ... for training.  
- Ever heard the name of Menendez ?  
- No. Not that I remember."  
  
Clarice shook her head. "My God, I'm stupid. We should have started with that ... the place you're used to go. I can't imagine why I did not ... I must be more rusty than I thought." Jason's laugh interrupted her. It was a clear kid' s laugh. "Clarice, it's fantastic ! What do we do now ?". She stared at him and gave him a smile. "First thing we eat." she said. "I'm gonna faint if I don't get anything in my stomach. Then I have to think."  
  
Jason suddenly remembered the pasta and turned to the stove. While finishing preparing the sauce he bombarded her with questions. He wanted to know how she had spotted Menendez. Clarice answered kindly. The enthusiasm of her young companion was starting to grow on her.  
  
He joined her at the table with two copious plates of pasta with fresh tomato sauce. The smell of it provoked a rumbling in Clarice' s stomach. She started to eat avidly, not even waiting for him to sit in front of her. Only when her appetite was somewhat satisfied, did she start to talk again.  
  
" - No late sleeping tomorrow." she said. "I want to be in Greyson when the first shops open. We don't have so much time left.  
- All right. Takes about twenty minutes to get there.  
- Good. We will start in the town. Then, if we don't find anyone who can recognize Willinger or Menendez and can give us information, we will enlarge the circle.  
- Are we just gonna show their pictures ? Simple as that ?  
- ... We'll have to be very careful, Jason. We have no idea if they have friends there, or even accomplices. If someone warns them, they will disappear and we will never see them again.  
- You've done that before, haven't you ?  
- Yes. A number of times.  
- What are our chances, do you think ?  
- Well ... It's difficult to say. But I think if we handle this properly, more than fifty percent.  
- I will do whatever you say.  
- OK."  
  
They went on eating in silence for a while. When Clarice rose her face again, she saw Jason' s eyes had darkened again. He was looking in her direction but she was pretty sure he was not seeing her.  
  
" - Jason ?" she said softly. And then she put her hand on his on the table. He watched her deeply.  
" - Clarice ...  
- Yes ?  
- I'd like you to give me an honest answer ... without trying to protect me.  
- What is it ?  
- ... Do you think my father' s still alive ?" His voice had been low but quiet. Clarice thought for a moment, trying to sort out her feelings.  
- Yes. I do." she finally answered. "Until the delivery of the ransom, your father is worth four million dollars for these men. I'm pretty sure they took good care of their investment."  
  
He smile to her, gratefully. But she could see his curiosity was not yet fully satisfied.  
  
" - What else ?" she asked.  
" - Have you thought of what you will do if ... **when** we find him ?  
- ... No. One thing at a time, Jason."  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	9. Chapter 09

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Thanks a lot to all reviewers, past present and future. You make the 'white page torture' worth it.  
  
**Chapter 9**  
  
The door opened slowly and a ray of sun lazily passed the doorstep of his cell. Hannibal raised his head. It was the first time they came to visit him at daylight. A man entered carrying a tray and pulling a chair. It was not 'bad-breath', but the boss. He put the tray on the bed and sat on the chair. "How are you doing today, Mr. Mc Namara ?" he asked. Hannibal evaluated the situation.  
  
" - Hmm ..." the man went on. "Don't let stupid ideas come to your mind. My friend is just outside and will not hesitate to kill you. I'm afraid he is a little bit spiteful and still resents you for his ear.  
- I'm better.  
- Good. You see, today you have the right to a good breakfast."  
  
Hannibal did not answer. He had not slept much and was feeling weak, but all his senses were as sharp as a knife. He tried to guess what this change in their habits meant but could not figure it out. However, he was certain the man would soon enlighten him.  
  
"Thank you." he said. He sat up on his bed and took the tray. He took a sip of coffee and looked at the man on the chair.  
  
" - What do I owe this favor to ?  
- Hmm. I just wanted to have a little chit-chat, between men of good will ..." His smile was the one of a wild animal watching his prey. Cold and cruel. "You don't mind talking with me, do you ?  
- No ... I don't think I have the choice anyway. You seem to be on the right side of the gun.  
- That's right. I am happy you understand that."  
  
Hannibal took a bite of the toasts that had been prepared for him and waited for the rest of the conversation. The man stared at him for a few seconds before he went on. His voice was sweet, but nevertheless full of unspoken threat.  
  
" - Tomorrow will be a great day, do you know that ?  
- Why is it so ?  
- Well, tomorrow your dear son will bring us what we asked for. Then, as all good things must come to an end, we will have to part, each of us going back to his own life."  
  
Hannibal glanced at him before turning back to his breakfast. It let pass a few seconds before he answered.  
  
" - Why would you let me go ?  
- Good question !" The man chuckled. "I mean, it's legitimate you ask it. You see, to be totally honest with you, what I am primarily interested in is the money. I don't really give a damn whether you live or not.  
- It sounds logical.  
- But, in the same time, I want to be able to enjoy my money in peace. If I kill you, sooner or later someone will realize you have disappeared. And then there will be some investigations ... I will have to be very careful ... If you live, I am convinced I can trust you for keeping our little business secret.  
- Why would I ?"  
  
The man chuckled again.  
  
" - I think you know better than that, Mr. Mc Namara. You appear to me as an intelligent man. I am sure you know that I know who you are, where you live ... and where your dear son lives too. Believe me, no police department could efficiently protect you if I really wanted to get to you ... Some have tried in the past, and they failed ... Even without the four millions I will take from you, you will still be able to live a comfortable life. That is ... if you don't have to wonder if I'm not going to jump out of the dark corner every time you go out, of course.  
- I see. So, I should just forget about all this and go on as if nothing had ever happened ?  
- It seems the more reasonable thing to do. But of course, the choice is yours ..."  
  
Hannibal raised his face again and this time locked gaze with the man. They stayed like this for almost a minute before Hannibal first talked.  
  
" - If I ... 'behave', do I have your word that I will never hear from you again ?  
- You've got it. But do not underestimate my determination, Mr. Mc Namara. If I sense anything unusual tomorrow, I will not hesitate one second to shoot you.  
- I have no doubt of it.  
- Do what I tell you, and you might grow old. Do anything foolish, and you will not get to your next birthday. Do I make myself clear ?  
- Perfectly clear."  
  
Willinger stood up and headed for the door. He was about to disappear when Hannibal' s voice raised in the dark. "If anything happens to my son," he said, his voice as calm as a voice can be, "you'd better kill me right away. Or you won't live another day."  
  
The man did not answer. He stood there a couple of seconds, then he left and locked the door behind him.  
  
Hannibal took a deep breath. His last intervention was for sure not the smartest thing to do, but something had pushed him to say the words anyway. He had absolutely no faith in the man' s words. This one seemed cold blooded, but his companions were much too unstable to keep this kind of promises.  
  
He knew what he had to do. He was aware his chances were almost non existent and that he would most probably not survive it. But they would not get to Jason. And that was the only thing that mattered.  
  
Now he needed to relax, and prepare. Hannibal laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. He passed the darkest rooms of his memory palace without even giving them a look, until he reached the sand beach of some tropical island. A little boy was playing on the shore, jumping in the waves and shouting with pleasure each time water came crashing on his legs. He was maybe seven or eight years old, and had yet no idea of how ugly the world could be. Sitting on the sand a few yards away, a man was watching him intensely. The boy had found a family at the age at which his father had lost his. His life was ahead of him, as promising as a life could be.  
  
This son was the most unexpected gift of life, a gift he knew he was not deserving ... The only thing on this earth Hannibal Lecter knew he could never betray.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice checked again the dining room and the kitchen, but Jason was nowhere to be found. It was 7:30 already and she was ready to go. She glanced through the kitchen window and tried to locate him in the garden. No one.  
  
She sighed. She knew he had got up for he had prepared some coffee. Where on earth could he be ?  
  
Her patience was getting thinner. She was about to go back upstairs when she heard like a door opening behind her. She turned to where the sound was coming from. The last cupboard on the left wall was slowly revolving. Instinctively, she put her hand to her side, where she knew her gun was. The next few seconds seemed to last like hours, tension slowly getting hold on her.  
  
The wall was still moving. When the opening reached about one foot, Clarice took her gun in her hand, and pointed it at the cupboard. She slowly removed the security. The muscles of her forearms hardened when she saw something coming out, then a man slipped into the kitchen. "Freeze !" she shouted. The man stopped, apparently as surprised as her, hands up.  
  
It took Clarice five long seconds before she could recognize him. "Jason ! What the hell ...". The young man chuckled and put his hands down. "Please, agent Starling, don't shoot me." he said. "I haven't done anything wrong yet."  
  
The transformation was incredible. Clarice was sure she would not have recognized him if she had passed near him in the street. He was wearing blond hair, a little bit too long and the skin of his face was tanned, as if he had been working outside for days. The shape of his face was distorted by some cotton he had put inside his jaws. He was wearing dirty coveralls and a cap was resting on his wig ... Only his eyes were betraying him.  
  
" - Jason! You almost gave me a heart attack ! What the hell are you doing ?  
- Well, I thought that if the kidnappers have been preparing the thing, as you said, they probably know what I look like. So, I figured out it would be safer to modify a bit my appearance before we go to Greyson. Just in case ...  
- Smart move.  
- Thank you. From your expression, I guess I managed pretty well, didn't I ?  
- You bet you did."  
  
Clarice finally relaxed and put her gun back in its case. She gave him a broad smile. "OK, one last thing to do and then we can go." He followed her to Lecter' s study, a slightly mocking smile still on his face, and watch her take a little electronic device from her bag. Then she went to the desk and took the phone.  
  
" - What's that ?" he asked.  
" - I ... borrowed it from the FBI. It will deviate the calls received on this line to your cell phone. I don't believe they will call today, but who knows ...  
- Good."  
  
Five minutes later they were outside . "I'll drive if you don't mind." she said when they arrived to the van. He handed her the keys and they settled inside.  
  
The sun was shining. They both remained silent for a while, each of them lost in his own thoughts. Clarice glanced at him.  
  
" - You're really gifted, you know. I would never have recognized you in the street.  
- Thank you. My father taught me that.  
- You had the most expert teacher, I guess.  
- He's got experience."  
  
Clarice smiled.  
  
" - He sure does ... Jason, do you mind if I ask you a question ?  
- No. Shoot.  
- ... Jason Mc Namara is not your real name, is it ?  
- Not exactly ... But my first name **is** Jason ... My **real** last name is Lecter."  
  
Clarice couldn't help a disbelieving glance.  
  
" - Are you kidding ?  
- Nope. Though obviously it is not the name I usually go by ... For obvious reasons.  
- I believe you.  
- ... I was not born in United States, actually. My father sent my mother to Switzerland for the last months of her pregnancy. The name 'Lecter' was not so famous there. And my father had been caged anyway. She delivered there and I was registered as ... Promise me you won't laugh.  
- I won't.  
- I was born Jason Marcus Aurelius Lecter."  
  
Clarice could not help chuckling.  
  
" - Clarice, you promised !  
- I know, I know ... I'm sorry.  
- Umh. He used to call me Marcus when he was mad at me when I was a kid. Just to torture me.  
- Your father is a cruel man." she laughed again.  
- Yeah.  
- What happened next ?  
- ... He provided my mother with all necessary false identity documents for me, including a birth certificate from Miami. Everything under my mother' s last name.  
...  
- You don't have to tell me, Jason.  
- Well, it is not so important now. And I guess you would find it anyway. Jason Marcus Ionescu. My mother comes from Romania.  
- Please to meet you, Jason Ionescu ... Don't worry, I will not use it against you ... or your mother.  
- I know."  
  
They were arriving at Greyson. It was a small country town as there were so many in the country. 3178 inhabitants, so said the sign. Main street, with a drugstore, two grocery stores and a little supermarket. A gas station and four or five bars. Clarice parked the van in front of the post office. They both stepped out.  
  
" - Where do we start ?" Jason asked as soon as he was out of the car.  
" - Well, I would not be against another breakfast. What do you say ?"  
  
He nodded. They crossed the street and entered the nearest bar. Charly's. They went to sit at one of the tables. They had the choice. The few customers were all leaning against the counter. Nobody had a look at them.  
  
After a few minutes, an middle-aged woman came to their table with two glasses of water. "What can I bring you ?" she asked. They ordered some coffee and scrambled eggs.  
  
They ate their breakfast rapidly and Clarice asked for the bill. She gave the woman a twenty dollars bill and waited for the change.  
  
" - Maybe you can help me ..." she looked at the badge on the woman' s blouse." ... Jackie ?  
- Tell me.  
- I was supposed to meet one of my friend here this morning. But he doesn't seem to be here." Clarice had taken back her West Virginia accent without any effort. "Harry Menendez is the name. Maybe you've seen him ?  
- Sorry but I don't know anyone by this name.  
- Yeah ... Problem is I don't have his address and we were suppose to meet here.  
- I'm afraid I can't help you.  
- Wait ... ".  
  
Clarice took out the picture of Menendez from her wallet and showed it to the waitress. "This photo is a little bit old but ... Well, Harry is not someone you easily forget." The woman took the picture and looked at it. Then she gave it back to Clarice and shook her head. "Never seen this man around. Sorry." Clarice put the picture back in her wallet. "Never mind. I probably got the name of the bar wrong. Thanks anyway."  
  
Clarice and Jason stood up and went to the door. "Nice accent ..." he whispered. "Yeah. Your father liked it too."  
  
" - OK." Clarice said when they were out. "We don't really have time to elaborate a strategy. So, I suggest we use the direct method.  
- Show the picture around.  
- Yes. We're at about the center of town here. You go right and I go left. We meet at the car when we're finished. In case one of us get something, we use the cell phone. All right ?  
- All right."  
  
They parted.  
  


* * *

  
The morale inside the van was everything but high. They had spent the whole morning in the streets of Greyson without any tangible result. Menendez' face had seemed a little bit familiar to a few people but none of them had been able to give them more information.  
  
After lunch, they had taken the car and started exploring the surroundings. They had stopped at each shop and gas station they had found, but there again, nothing they could use.  
  
The night was falling when they entered Buckingham, a little village five miles from Greyson. "I need a coffee." Clarice said. Jason did not answer. She was not even sure he'd been listening to her. She stopped the car in front of what seemed the only bar in town. She stepped out and stretched. Jason followed her to the pavement.  
  
They were about to enter in the bar when the ring of a telephone startled them both. "It's mine." Jason whispered. A rush of adrenaline ran in Clarice' s veins. Jason took his cell phone and answered. He shook his head almost immediately. "Hi mom, how are you ?".  
  
Clarice sighed and made a few steps to give him privacy. She leaned on the wall and waited for the end of Jason' s conversation. She had a look at the street. About ten yards from her a young woman was pushing a stroller. Five kids were noisily following her. The elder must have been eight, not more, and the difference between each brother or sister was about one year. My God ... Clarice thought ... That's a family ! She felt the familiar twinge of regret she could feel every time she was thinking of a family. She shook her head as if she could get rid of her thoughts so easily.  
  
A car stopped to let the woman and the kids cross and then went to park in front of Clarice, on the other side of the street. Clarice was looking but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was desperately trying to have an idea. Of course, tomorrow at latest there would be the release of the ransom, and a possibility to do something. But she knew that without preparation it was very risky, and their chances would be thin.  
  
A man got out of the car and headed to the grocery store. A real cowboy, she thought. So much like the ones in her hometown. A large stetson was set on the man' s head and was partly covering his face. Clarice' s eyes slid to his car. She had always loved car, and that one was for sure an interesting specimen. You could probably go wherever you wanted with this ...  
  
Clarice froze in disbelief before she could finish her mental sentence. "Jesus !" she said aloud. She feverishly took a paper from the back pocket of her jeans and read her notes, just to be sure. The model was the same and the man she had seen enter in the grocery store corresponded to the description they had of Menendez. Even if she had not seen his face, she was sure ... She could feel it ... "My God ! It's him ..."  
  
"Jason !" she said loud enough for her companion to hear. Jason raised his face to her. The tone of her voice made it clear it was important. He came closer. "All right, mom. Listen, I've got to go now ... No, I'm fine. I'm just late ... Yes, I'll call you back tomorrow, OK ? Bye mom.".  
  
He turned to Clarice.  
  
" - She must have a sixth sense." he said. "She ...  
- Get in the car.  
- What is it ?  
- Jason, get in the car !"  
  
The way she had said that did not leave space for disobedience. He followed her inside and closed the door.  
  
" - Clarice, what's the matter ?  
- The Ranger Rover behind ... No !" she shouted as Jason started to turn back. "Look at the rear mirror."  
  
He did, and she could see the realization on his face.  
  
" - Where is he ?" his voice was just a murmur.  
" - In the grocery store. He just entered.  
- What are we doing now ?  
- We wait. And then we follow.  
- But if ...  
- It's your father we're looking for, Jason. Not Menendez. We have to find where they keep him.  
- You're right. I'm sorry.  
- It's OK."  
  
About ten minutes passed before Menendez came out of the shop. He went directly to his car and went back in the direction he had come from. Clarice started the engine, waited till the Range Rover was far enough, and followed it.  
  
They soon left Buckingham and turned into a small country road. After a few miles, the road became almost straight, which made Clarice' s task more difficult. She could not take the risk to be seen, and so had to leave enough distance between them and Menendez. On the other hand, this was their one chance and she did not want to let it pass.  
  
Jason was registering their itinerary on their map. After about ten miles, the Range Rover changed direction.  
  
" - On the left." Jason said.  
" - I've seen it ..." The tension had made her tone harsh. "Sorry ...  
- It's OK.  
- Do you know where we are ?  
- Yes."  
  
They took on the left. The road was narrowing and they were entering a wood. The visibility suddenly decreased and Clarice accelerated to try to reduce the distant. They lost eye contact with Menendez for a while, but then saw his car again. Clarice managed to keep the pace for another five minutes, but the road was getting worse and worse. And the van was protesting each time its wheels encountered a hole in the ground. She was obliged to reduce her speed. She knew Menendez was much better equipped for this kind of dirt tracks. She swore.  
  
They lost sight again when the road went to a forty five degrees angle. There was a long straight line after the bend, but the Range Rover was no more there. "Can you see it ?" she asked Jason. He shook his head. "Shit ! Where is he ?".  
  
She went on for a mile or so but Menendez was nowhere. She finally stopped the car by the side of the road. They had to face it, they had lost him. Clarice hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hands. Jason did not say a word and waited for her frustration to pass.  
  
" - He can't be far." she finally whispered. "The son of a bitch can't have escaped us this way.  
- He must have taken one of the side tracks. I can't think of anything else.  
- Do you have something on the map ?  
- No. These are too small to be there. But it must be in the last two miles. There must not be more than two or three possibilities. It's worth trying ...  
- We have nothing else anyway."  
  
She started again the engine and did a U-turn. She went slowly down the road.  
  
" - Must be on the left." she said. "In the direction of the woods. We would have seen him if he had turned in the fields." Jason nodded.  
" - Did you see anything ? I didn't.  
- No. But I was not really paying attention."  
  
They were both staring at the woods, when suddenly they saw it. They jumped on their seat at the very same instant and Clarice started braking. A little path was going down on their left. No wonder they had not noticed it before. The entrance was masked by some bushes, and you really had to look for it to find it.  
  
Clarice engaged their car on the path and went on slowly. After a while, the path went to a fork. She stepped out of the car and started to look for tracks on the floor. "Right." she simply said when she joined Jason inside. They went on for two hundred yards.  
  
Jason saw it first. "There !" he shouted. She looked at the direction he was indicating. On their right, about fifty yards from the road, was an old farm. It was obvious it had not been used for agriculture for a long long time. In the middle of the courtyard was a brand new Range Rover.  
  
Clarice sighed. They had them. She took the car backward for a few yards and parked it in the bushes on the other side of the road. They stepped out and went hiding behind a large tree. They had a perfect view on the farm but it was almost certain nobody could see them.  
  
" - Clarice, we've found them ! I can't believe we've found them.  
- Yes.  
- What do we do now ?"  
  
Excitement was clear in the young man's voice. Clarice remained silent for a moment.  
  
" - We wait." she said.  
" - What ?  
- We wait, and we observe.  
- But ...  
- We have to know more, Jason. We don't even know how many they are. What do you suggest ? We just break in and shout 'we got you' ?  
- No ... Of course not, but ... I don't know, I just thought that ..."  
  
She put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry." she said softly "They won't do him any harm. Not until they get the money." He nodded.  
  
Jason settled more comfortably and started observing. Clarice went back to the car and took a notebook she had brought with her, and the map. Then she covered the van with some branches and leaves to hide it better. She went back to their hiding place and started sketching the farm and its surroundings.  
  
Nothing significant happened for quite a while. Menendez went out about one hour after their arrival. He went to the car and picked something out of the trunk. Then he went back inside.  
  
Another man went out later. From his general appearance it could have been Willinger. But they were too far and the night was too dark for them to see his face.  
  
Clarice stood up. "I'm gonna have a look around." she said. "You wait for me here." Before Jason could protest, she was gone.  
  
It was almost 3:00 am when she came back.  
  
" - Come on, Jason. We go home now.  
- What ?  
- They won't move tonight. And we need some equipment ... and some rest. Come on, we know where they are now. We'll come back in the morning.  
- OK. Did you find anything interesting ?  
- There is another access by the North. I don't know where it comes from. We'll have to find it on the map. It seems safer on that side. We can almost reach the house under the cover of the trees.  
- Do you plan to try something here ?  
- I don't know. But I prefer to be prepared.  
...  
- Clarice ...  
- Yes ?  
- I'm glad to have you on my side.  
- ... You'll say that when we have your father."  
  
They had not even done five miles when Jason fell asleep.  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Again, thanks for the reviews.  
I actually had planned chapter 10 to be the last one, but I will try to take it a little further (this is for Clariz). Don't expect too much from me, though. We are near the end anyway.  
Sorry about the cruelty of your dentist, Guber (most of them are). I won't answer your question now, though. But all good things to those who wait ... (Hey, I put this one in the 'suspense' category after all.)  
BTW, a few lines in this chapter were copied/pasted from Steven Zaillian' s script. Thank you very much, Mr. Zaillian.  
  
  
**Chapter 10**  
  
Clarice abruptly woke up in the dark of her room. Her whole body was covered with sweat. She took a few deep breath to try to pace the beating of her heart. She finally relaxed a bit. It had only been a nightmare ... **her** nightmare ...  
  
But why ? Why now ? Why had the lambs chosen this very moment to start screaming again ? She wiped away the sweat on her face. It was the first time in months that she was waking in the middle of the night. She thought she had made it. She thought she had finally silenced the lambs ... but they were still there, waiting in the dark, ready to show up on the first occasion. When she less expected them ...  
  
She had a look at her watch. 5:15. Her hands were still slightly trembling. She sighed. She knew she would not find sleep again. She got up and went to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower running on her naked body helped to calm her. This was ridiculous. She knew it was not a lamb she would try to save today. Rather a wolf. And yet ...  
  
Or was it the thought that she would see him again ? That she would again feel his gaze on her ... This look that seemed to read through her like from an open book ...  
  
What next ? What if they managed to save him, what would she do then ? For the first time since she met Jason, the question she had deliberately avoided struck her in the face.  
  
He was still a criminal. Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter. And she was still an FBI agent. Even if that did not mean the same thing it used to mean, it still counted for her. Logically, she could not let him go away. And yet, could she arrest him ? She would have the power. For the first time since they'd met, she would be able to stop him for real. But was this what she wanted ?  
  
Of course it was. What else could she want ? Why the hell would she hesitate ? Had he shown any mercy for his victims ?  
  
As the water drained her thoughts, she realized she had been thinking of this all the time. She had pretended she would care for this later, but now she knew she had only been fooling herself.  
  
Catching Hannibal Lecter would be the coup of her career. Much better than all the Buffalo Bills of this earth. Because all these jerks who had set her down in Washington would have to publicly acknowledged they'd been wrong. They would have to bend before her, ask for her forgiveness. And that was priceless.  
  
She would be immediately reinstated. She knew it. Would have a much better position that she could have dreamt of. She would have her career back, the career she knew she deserved, the one she had fought for for so many years.  
  
Clarice closed her eyes and offered her face to the water. She did not want to cry. Not now. Not again ... Not for them, nor for what they had done to her.  
  
Is this what she wanted ? This revenge on them ? To see them crawling at her feet ? Oh yes, **that** would be good, but was it what she **really **wanted ?  
  
Then what was she doing here ? Alone ... Why hadn't she called the FBI for support ? Would have been much easier and much less risky. Then why had she told her boss she was ill and was taking a few days off ? She had not hesitated one second though. She knew it ... but yet she could not explain why.  
  
The voice of Hannibal Lecter resounded in her head. This characteristic metallic sound amplified by the phone. "You serve the idea of order, Clarice - they don't. You believe in the oath you took - they don't. You feel it's your duty to protect the sheep - they don't. They don't like you because they're not like you. They're weak and unruly and believe in nothing."  
  
She let the last words vanish in the steam of the shower. "How would you know, Dr. Lecter ?" she said aloud. "What do you know about order and oaths and duty ? And lambs ...".  
  
She opened her eyes and rubbed her face. She stopped the water and staid there, standing in the shower, her hands wrapped around her shoulders, not moving until the air cooled and made her chill.  
  
She sniffed and went out of the shower. She grabbed a towel and began to dry her body energetically. She was quickly recovering her senses but deep down inside she knew she had not come to a conclusion. And she knew she would not come to one now ... not before she saw him.  
  
When she sees him, she would know. And she would make her decision.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice was putting her bags in the back of the van when Jason appeared in the doorstep. He was looking rested, though he had not slept more than three hours. Much better than her anyway.  
  
He went down the few steps and stood next to her. "So, what do we need ?" he asked. She turned to him and she saw in his eyes that her face had betrayed her emotions. But he did not say anything.  
  
" - Everything we can," she answered. "You have to think we might not be able to come back to this house.  
- I understand.  
- Take your personal things. Only what you can't do without. And anything that could lead them to you, or to your father.  
- All right. Anything in particular ?  
- Do you know if he keeps money here ?  
- He does. I'll take it.  
- Good. And take the computer too.  
- OK. Do **you** need anything ?  
- ... Does he have any tools ?  
- In the garage. I'll show you.  
- I'll find them. Go now, we must hurry."  
  
Jason had a last look at Clarice then went back inside the house. She called him back before he entered: "Get some binoculars if he has some." Jason nodded and disappeared.  
  
Clarice went to the garage and gathered a few tools they could need. There was a barbed wire fence around the farm and they could need some pliers to make their way. She took a flashlight too, and some batteries.  
  
Jason had not yet returned when she reached the van. She leaned against the car and closed her eyes. Angry. This was what she was. Angry with herself. Angry with her indelible habit of complicating everything, to put emotions where only action was needed.  
  
When he came back, Jason was carrying only a big sport bag.  
  
" - Is that all ?" she asked.  
" - You said only what we can't do without. Don't worry, I did not leave any track.  
- All right. Get in the car, then. Let's go."  
  
Clarice reached the driver' s seat and started the engine.  
  
" - Wait !" Jason suddenly said.  
" - What ?  
- I just forgot one thing.  
- Jason !  
- I'll be a minute."  
  
He was gone before she could protest further. Less than a minute later, he was back carrying a large metallic box. He put it in the back and came to seat next to her.  
  
" - What is that ?  
- Medical stuff he's keeping. Just in case. I though we might need it.  
- OK. Anything else ?  
- No.  
- ... Jason, do you have a gun ?  
- No. I know he's got some, but I don't know where he keeps them. I could search the whole house without finding them."  
  
Clarice reached for her ankle and pulled her second weapon. She handed it to him along with a box of ammunition she got from her jacket. He took them.  
  
" - You know how to use these, don't you ?  
- Yes.  
- Jason, I hope we will not come to that extend, but if you have to shoot, shoot to kill."  
  
He nodded and put the gun in his pocket. Clarice started the car and exit from the park.  
  
Clarice was lost in her thoughts. She was reviewing in her mind the geography of the scene, and the possible scenarios. She had almost forgotten his presence when he broke the silence. "What is it, Clarice ?" the sound of his voice startled her.  
  
" - What ?  
- Did I do or say anything wrong ?  
- No. What makes you think ...  
- I know something is wrong this morning, but I don't know what. I mean, if I did something ...  
- You did nothing wrong, Jason. I'm fine.  
...  
- I don't think you are.  
- The hell with the Lecter and their extra vision !"  
  
She took a deep breath. He did not deserve that. But she was getting really tired of being so transparent to the male members of his family.  
  
" - I'm sorry, Jason. I'm tired, that's all. You did not do anything wrong ... I didn't want to yell at you, I ...  
- I know what I'm asking from you is ... I know how awkward it can be.  
- It's OK. I'm an adult. I take my own decisions. You did not force me to follow you.  
- All right. We're both tired. But if you want to ...  
- I don't want to talk about it, Jason. Not now. It's nothing personal, but I don't want to talk about it.  
- Fine with me."  
  
He gave her a warm smile, and she could not help smiling back at him.  
  


* * *

  
It had rained during the night and the ground was muddy. Now the air was dry but cold. Clarice looked at her watch. 10:07 am.  
  
They had arrived half an hour before. They had had a little bit of difficulties finding the alternate road, but they had made it. She had hidden the car and positioned it so as to be able to leave fast. They had studied the map carefully and knew how to reach the main road in case they would have to follow the Range Rover again. It was still in the courtyard for now, same place it was the night before. The ground behind it was dry. They hadn't moved.  
  
Clarice had got closer to the house and cut a hole in the fence. She had come through it but had not done more than a few steps. She did not want to run the risk of being spotted. Not now. She had come back to Jason and they were both waiting in silence.  
  
The sound of his cell phone vibration made them jump. Jason took it from the inside pocket of his jacket and answered. "Jason Mc Namara." Clarice put her head close to his so as to hear the conversation.  
  
" - Good morning, Mr. Mc Namara. I suppose you were waiting for my call ?  
- Yes. How is my father ?  
- He's fine, don't worry. But one thing at a time. Do you have my little present ?  
- I do.  
- Whole of it ?  
- Yes.  
- I'm impressed. You are a very resourceful young man, aren't you ?  
- What do I do now ?  
- Hmm ... I can see you don't loose time. I like that ... As they say, time is money."  
  
They heard a laugh at the other end of the line. Jason' s voice was remaining very calm. Clarice knew he must have been scared to death but he did not show. She put her hand on his back.  
  
" - Well, straight to business so. Do you know a little town called Weaver ?  
- No. But I can find it.  
- Good. It's on the left side of the St Paul river. You can find it on any map of the state of New York.  
- All right. What then ?  
- There is a leisure park close to Weaver, about three miles away to be precise. It is called Sunland Park.  
- OK.  
- When you get there, buy yourself a ticket and go to the big wheel. Wait there. A man will come to you and offer you a cigarette. He will light it for you, with a red lighter. Give him the money. He will tell you where you can find your father. Is everything clear ?"  
  
Clarice frantically shook her head. "NO" she mimed. "See him". Jason got it.  
  
" - No." he said. "I **want **to see my father before I give you the money.  
- I don't think you're in a position in which you can **demand** anything, young man."  
  
The voice had become harder. Clarice made a sign to Jason to calm down. "I know." he answered a bit hesitantly. "I will give you the money. I will give you anything you want. But I want to see my father first ... I saw the blood at his house. I don't even know if he's still alive." The silence at the other end seemed to last forever.  
  
" - All right." the voice finally answered. "Then you will follow the man to the parking lot. You will see him, but won't be allowed to go to him until we've got the money.  
- OK.  
- Good. It is 10:15 now. Be at the big wheel at 11:00, sharp.  
- I'll be there."  
  
Then they both heard the click. Before Jason could put his cell phone back in his pocket, Clarice was already searching the map.  
  
" - There it is !" she exclaimed after a few seconds. "About fifteen minutes from here. A little more than half an hour from your father' s house, I guess.  
- What do we do now ?  
- We wait, and we follow. It should not be long. I want to see how many of them we will have to fight there. And I want to be sure they're taking him with them."  
  
At this precise instant, Clarice could see that all the assurance and self-control Jason had demonstrated on the phone was just a fake. He was scared, deep down inside scared. She stared at him straight in the eyes and tried to put as much confidence as she could in her look. "We will beat them at their own game, Jason. **Now** we have a priceless advantage. We know where they are and we can watch what they do ... And they don't know we know."  
  
He closed his eyes for a second and she saw the effort he made to recollect his strengths. When he opened his eyes again, they were determined. His voice sounded low and calm. "All right." he simply answered.  
  


* * *

  
He heard them running down the stairs. So, this was it. He did not have any fear or doubts. He was mentally prepared and fully concentrated on the task to come. It was amazing how he could still slip so easily into the skin of this cool killing machine no one had been able to stop till now ... Even if he had not been practicing much in the recent past, the automatism of his mind came back naturally, without any effort. Thomas Mc Namara was dead and buried. What they would have to deal with now was Hannibal Lecter.  
  
The door slammed opened. Without even looking in their direction he could sense there was the three of them. He turned his face to the door and covered his inner smile with what anybody would interpret as a frightened expression. He knew he looked everything but dangerous, and that could only serve his purpose.  
  
The man he had identified as their chief entered first but remained by the door. His oldest companion, the one he had bitten the ear of was staying outside. Both were carrying an automatic gun, both pointed in his direction. The third man entered and got closer to the bed. He was the youngest one too. Maybe seventeen years old, not much more. The boss threw a little key at him. "Un-cuff him." he spat. The kid complied without a word.  
  
Hannibal resisted the will of massaging his sore wrist and kept his eyes wide opened and pointed at the enemy. Their boss looked at him with visible satisfaction and explained him the next steps:  
  
" - Time has come, Mr. Mc Namara. I have spoken with your son and he seemed eager to cooperate. In about one hour you should never hear about us again ... Provided you respect our little arrangement, of course ...  
- You don't have to worry about this. I will." Hannibal' s voice was very slightly trembling, but that did not escape the man and brought a smile on his face.  
" - I am sure you will. But remember what I told you: anything unusual and ...  
- I know.  
- Good. So, as everything seems clear, let's go. Get up now."  
  
Hannibal sat on the bed and slowly pulled his left leg to its edge. Then, putting his whole weight on his right feet he painfully stood up. The grin of pain on his face was not faked. The dizzy spell that followed instead was. From as far as he could remember, Hannibal had never felt so aware and in full control of his senses. But that, no living creature could have guessed.  
  
His body swayed and he just had the time to grab the post of the bed to avoid falling. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. "Help him up !" he heard the cold voice utter. And then the young man mumbling. He soon felt an arm pass below his left armpit and grab the back of his shirt. Hannibal raised his arm and rested it on the man' s shoulder. Then he leant on him, putting as much weight as possible on this improvised human crutch.  
  
"Come on ! We don't have whole day !"  
  
They started climbing up the stairs. Hannibal went first, followed by the two armed men. They were progressing slowly and he did not have to look to feel the irritation growing in his jailers. Once they were up, the boss overtook them and went to open the door. "Harry ! Get the car !" he yelled at the third man. "You two, get out. Put him in the back seat of the Chevy and lock the door." His voice was as icy as his eyes. "And hurry up." he added.  
  
The young man instinctively accelerated the pace. Hannibal smelt the fear in his sweat.  
  
They passed the doorstep and went down a few steps towards the courtyard. Hannibal slowed down to have more time to look at his surrounding. His mind was perfectly clear and calm. He was registering as many details as possible.  
  
The building was an ex farm. The courtyard was rather large, the ground was made of earth, turning to mud now. At the center of it, was a modern Range Rover. It was parked parallel to the farm main building, passenger side facing them.  
  
In front of them was the entrance of the 'property'. A rusty metallic gate was opened on a dust path. Hannibal guessed nobody had lived there for years. They did not seem to have neighbors either. On their left stood an old barn. The large wooden doors were closed. As far as he could see, behind the barn were what were probably once cultivated fields, now merely covered with weed. There were some trees at the end of the fields, but they were at least half a mile away.  
  
On the right instead, about ninety yards from them, the courtyard was bordered by some woods. Hannibal could not see how deep they were. He could not see any fence on this side and the first trees were undoubtedly the closest place to hide. Ninety yards was a long distance to cover on exposed ground, especially when men with guns were after you. But it appeared to him as the only way out.  
  
They were progressing in courtyard now, heading towards the Range Rover. Hannibal was making it as heavy as possible for the young man supporting him. He could feel the man heart beat accelerate and his breathing shorten. They finally reached the car and leant on it. The chief of the gang had stayed in the doorway, his gun pointed at Hannibal.  
  
A few seconds later, an old brown Chevy passed the gate and progressed in their direction. The third man was driving it. When he saw the second car approaching, the boss went back inside the farm. "I'll be back in a minute." he yelled at his companions. "Get ready to go."  
  
The Chevy passed behind Hannibal and his guardian and came to park between the Range Rover and the farm. Hannibal' s body tensed up. It was his occasion ... As fast as a cobra attacking its prey, his arm reached to the young man's neck and his hand seized his chin. He distinctly heard the vertebra crack, but the man in the Chevy did not notice anything. Hannibal started to run as fast as possible in the direction of the wood.  
  
With each of his step, excruciating pain was coming up from his thigh to his whole upper body. But he ignored it. His eyes were fixed on the first tree at the other end of the courtyard. Next thing he heard was the voice of their boss shouting "Harry !". The answer of Harry was covered by the noise of gun shots. Hannibal went on running, but his leg abandoned him as he was half way to his objective. He fell to the floor.  
  
The bangs went more numerous and he wondered how he could still be alive. But he suddenly realized that some of the shots were not coming straight from behind him, but more from his right. Someone else was shooting ... and it could not be Harry or his accomplice.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice and Jason were staring at the farm, waiting for the kidnappers to move. They were about twenty yards behind the building, on its right. Their visibility was perfect, even without the binoculars. None of them was speaking.  
  
Not even five minutes after the end of the phone call, they saw the door open. Menendez went out first. He start running towards the gate and soon disappeared. A few seconds later, they noticed more movements from the door. And then they saw him.  
  
Hannibal Lecter was leaning on a younger man and they were both slowly coming out of the doorway. They could see he was heavily limping, but he was alive. Clarice did not have to look at Jason' s to feel the young man' s relief.  
  
Clarice' s feelings were more complex though. Seeing Lecter again was something strange. Even at distance, even with him not being aware of her presence, she could feel something electric in the air. She blinked twice to try to get rid of her uneasy sensations. Now was not the time. She had to concentrate on the job. She would have time to analyze afterwards.  
  
The two men went to the Range Rover and stopped there. In the doorway they could distinguish a third silhouette.  
  
" - Willinger," she whispered for Jason. "There, at the door." He nodded.  
" - I've seen him.  
- He's got a gun, and we don't know if there are others inside ... The good thing is they're taking your father with them. Seems they intend to respect the deal.  
- Yeah. The only problem is we haven't got the money."  
  
She did not answer. She did not have to.  
  
They heard the noise of an engine. Menendez was coming back driving a Chevy. They saw him park near the Range Rover, but he did not come out. Willinger disappeared inside. He said something but they were too far to understand. Clarice' s eyes turned back to the cars.  
  
In a second, the man who was standing by Lecter fell on the floor and she saw Lecter start to run through the courtyard. Jason saw him too. Clarice instinctively pulled her gun from her holster and pointed it at the farm.  
  
" - What is he doing ?" Jason uttered, ultimate tension in his voice. Clarice understood immediately.  
" - God damn him ! He's protecting you.  
- What ?  
- He knows you can't have gathered the money, and he thinks you're alone. So he tries his fate before they can get to you."  
  
The voice of Willinger resounded and the first gun shots exploded. Clarice immediately shot at the farm door, soon imitated by Jason. Menendez, who had come out of the Chevy rushed behind the car and started to shoot in their direction. Clarice heard the impacts a few feet away. They had not yet spotted them with precision.  
  
Clarice glanced at where she had seen Lecter for the last time. She spotted him easily.  
  
He was forty yards ahead of them, crawling on the floor trying to reach a grove. But he was still far from it. She could hear the shots getting closer and more precise. He would never make it alone, she thought. Jason stopped firing to reload his gun. She shot a few bullets to keep Willinger and Menendez quiet.  
  
" - Jason," she said, "I must go and get your father. He won't make it alone.  
- OK. I'll cover you.  
- I can't bring him back here ... Too much exposed. I'll take him to the trees there.  
- And then ?"  
  
Clarice had to raise her voice to cover the sound of the guns.  
  
" - These woods are where we hid yesterday evening.  
- I know.  
- When we are there, I'll cover you. When you hear my gun, run to the car and go and pick us there.  
- But it will take me at least ten minutes." he protested.  
  
She took the car keys out of her pocket and handed them to him. "Do you have a better plan ?" she asked. He shook his head. "Right. Now cover me."  
  
When Jason started to fire again, she got up and started to run. She ran as fast as she could to join Lecter and kneeled by his side. She could see the blood on the floor.  
  
"Get on your back !" she shouted at him. He raised his face and looked at her in disbelief. He was too surprised to say anything. He complied to her order as fast as he could, his eyes locked on her. She was shooting again at the farm.  
  
When she saw he was ready, she stuck her gun in the waist of her trousers, put her hands under his armpits and started to pull him as fast as she could. A few seconds later, they were both safe behind the trees. Clarice reloaded her gun and had a look at the situation behind. She fired twice to signal Jason that she was ready. She had a glance at Hannibal Lecter.  
  
He was lying on his side, staring at her. He was as pale as a ghost and his eyes were feverish.  
  
" - Are you all right ?" she asked. As he was not answering she went on: "Dr. Lecter, can you hear me ?  
- Clarice ?  
- Yeah. That's me." She sighed. "How bad is it ?" she asked, pointing her gun at his leg. Without waiting for his answer she looked back at the building, keeping watching the two men there.  
  
Hannibal did not seem to have heard her question.  
  
" - Clarice, what are you doing here ?  
- Long story. We don't have time for that now. How bad is your leg ? Can you walk ?  
- I think so. Maybe you will have to help me a bit ... " He gave her a bright smile. "It seems saving my life is becoming one of your hobbies, isn't it ?"  
  
Clarice could not believe it. They were somewhere in the woods, pursued by armed men trying to kill them, and all he was thinking of was kidding with her.  
  
" - Dr. Lecter ! **Now **is really not the time for your little games, OK !  
- All right, Clarice. Then what is next in your plans ? If I may ask ..."  
  
He was still slightly smiling.  
  
" - Now we wait." Starling answer abruptly.  
- Wait ? Wait for what ?  
- We wait for Jason. He's gonna join us with your car."  
  
"Jason ..." he murmured, as if the air was hardly passing through his throat. She nodded. She was trying to spot Willinger. She had seen him join Menendez behind the cars. Though she was certain the two men could not have left, she could not see them now. And that made her nervous. The positive thing though was that nobody else had shown up.  
  
When she turned back to Hannibal, his smile had disappeared, and for the first time since she'd known him, Clarice saw in Hannibal Lecter' s eyes what she would never have expected to see there: fear.  
  
" - Don't worry," she said, "he's gonna be OK.  
- Is he alone ? Did you call some back-up ?  
- No.. But the kid is bright. It was just the two of us."  
  
Clarice knew he was now analyzing the consequences of what she had just said. She had not called the FBI. She silently prayed he would not comment on this. She really did not need that, not now.  
  
Her prayers seemed to have been heard. He did not say a word. A crack in the leafs alerted her and she turned back to him. He was trying to sit up against the trunk of the closest tree. She could not miss the grin of pain on his face.  
  
She looked back at the farm just in time to see Menendez trying to get out of hiding. She fired twice at him and he fell on the floor. He was not dead. She could see him move, but he seemed seriously injured. Silence came back. She sat on the floor near Lecter and helped him settle. He really did not look well. His trousers were covered with blood. The loss was important. He was looking very weak and breathing heavily. Additionally, on the left side of his face, a four inches haematoma had turned black.   
  
She had a look at her watch. Eight minutes had passed since Jason had left. "It won't be long now." she whispered. "Jason will be here any minute. Hold on." He nodded and gave her a smile. Her heart skipped a few beats.  
  
Sounds of gun shots suddenly brought her back to reality. She instantly turned back. The firing was no more coming from the cars, but from behind a little wall about forty yards from them. "Shit !" she spat. "The son of a bitch has got closer." She shot at Willinger. She checked that Menendez was still lying on the ground.  
  
Clarice and Hannibal heard it at the same time. The sound of a car engine stopping close to them. "Thank God !" she whispered. Two seconds later, Jason emerged from the bushes. He ran to his father and kneeled next to him.  
  
" - Dad ! Are you all right ?  
- I'll be fine, don't worry."  
  
Jason took his hand and held it strong. Tears were beginning to show in his eyes.  
  
" - Sorry to interrupt, but you'll have plenty of time for that later." Clarice said. "Now we've got to get out of here. Jason, help him to the van and wait for me there. You'll drive. I'll cover you.  
- But ...  
- Jason, please ! Don't discuss. Do as I say, right ?  
- Come on, Jason." Hannibal added. "Clarice knows what she's doing.  
- I'll join you."  
  
Clarice fired to the wall behind which Willinger was hiding. Jason helped Hannibal to stand up. He moaned when his left feet touched the ground. Then the two men headed to the car.  
  
Clarice waited a couple of minutes before she left her post. She knew they would not go fast and wanted to be sure they would be in the car when she joins them. She shot two more bullets at Willinger, and then pointed at the cars. She fired to the wheels: she could not take the risk he would follow them. Then she got up and moved as fast as possible. She jumped in the back of the van, where Hannibal Lecter was lying.  
  
Jason had already started the engine and the car started as soon as she was in.  
  
He was driving as fast as he could on the poor road. Clarice and Hannibal were projected against the car each time the van wheels were encountering a pothole. She saw him clench his teeth. She got closer and tried to immobilize his leg but she had nothing to hang on.  
  
Finally, after a dozen of minutes they were on the main road. Clarice sat near Hannibal' s legs and started tearing his trousers leg. She had a quick look at the wound. Blood was still pouring.  
  
"- We can't go back to the house." she said to Jason. Then turning back to Lecter: "The bullet's still inside.  
- I know.  
- You need a doctor.  
- No way ..."  
  
He closed his eyes as she tried to turn his leg to see better.  
  
" - Sorry.  
- It's all right." he whispered. His voice was weak and his breathing difficult. "The femur is ... broken too.  
- Jason, we need a quiet place. He needs medical care ...  
- Jason ?" Hannibal interrupted.  
- Yes dad.  
- Do you remember ... where the old ... hotel is ?  
- Yes.  
- A hotel ?" Clarice exclaimed. "I'm not quite sure it is ...  
- It's an ex hotel." Jason said. "Abandoned for years. In the middle of nowhere.  
- Do you think you can ... get to it ?" Hannibal asked.  
- Yes.  
- Good. We will be ... safe there.  
- How far is it ?" Clarice asked.  
- We can be there in a little more than an hour."  
  
She grinned. "OK. I don't suppose we have the choice anyway. But hurry up."  
  
Clarice winded the part of Hannibal' s trousers she had torn up around his thigh and made a knot. One hour was a long time. She had to stop the bleeding if he was to make it alive. She took the two ends of her improvised tourniquet and squeezed as much as she could.  
  
Hannibal' s face tensed and a cry escaped his throat. And then he lost consciousness.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling and Ardelia Mapp (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Thanks for the reviews of chapter 10. It has been the most difficult to write for me and I'm happy you liked it. Now, lets start exploring this relationship between our two favorite characters. Does not mean there might not be other twists in the future ...  
  
**Chapter 11**  
  
Clarice felt his body suddenly relax. She looked at him. His eyes were closed and his face was covered with sweat. She put her hand to his forehead. It was hot as hell. She saw Jason glance at them in the rear mirror.  
  
" - How is he doing ?" he asked.  
" - He's holding on. He's very weak and he's got fever. But the wound is not so bad. They cleaned it and it does not seem to be infected. We've got to remove this bullet from his thigh, though. As soon as possible.  
- I'm going as fast as I can.  
- I know, Jason. Don't worry, he'll be fine."  
  
Clarice drew to her the metallic case Jason had filled with his father' s medical stuff. She opened it and started to search. She found some alcohol and cotton wool. Then, she had a look at the medicines. Under the various boxes, a little leather case caught her attention. She took it and opened it. Inside were carefully settled two syringes and two phials: morphine ... That could be useful.  
  
She turned back to Hannibal and started cleaning his leg. Then she wrapped his thigh in a tight bandage and slowly loosened the tourniquet. It seemed all right. She brushed her hands on her jeans and had a look at her patient.  
  
His eyes were wide open and he was staring at her. She had not realized he had waken up.  
  
" - The bleeding has stopped." she said.  
" - Good."  
  
His voice was hoarse. He shivered. She took off her jacket and laid it on him.  
  
" - Thank you, Clarice.  
- Do you want one of these ?" she offered showing the little leather box.  
" - No. Not now. We're gonna need them later."  
  
He took a deep breath. Clarice got closer and took out her handkerchief. She softly swept the sweat from his face. He let her do in silence, his eyes locked to hers. This simple contact with the man she had been chasing all these years was weird. He seemed so vulnerable now, so human ... And yet the intensity of his look reminded her of who he was.  
  
They remained silent for the rest of the trip.  
  
The pain was harsh on him. He could have retired in the labyrinth of his memory palace to alleviate it, but that would have meant loosing the sight of her. And at this precise moment, all he wanted was to watch her. She looked exhausted, but he knew this had nothing to do with the physical efforts. He was aware of the inner fights she had had to overcome to sit in this van next to him. But these were nothing in comparison with the turmoil she was experiencing now.  
  
He realized his staring at her was making her uneasy, so he broke the eye contact for a moment. There was nothing to be uncomfortable with, really. What Clarice had interpreted as morbid curiosity and irony from his part was only admiration. For her strength, for all she had surmounted with the only real weapon she had available, her courage ... for her beauty ...  
  
He extended his arm and touched her hand with the tips of his fingers. He felt her tense up but she did not refuse the contact. Instead she took his hand in hers and pressed it. "We're almost there." she whispered, mistaking his gesture for a need of support. "We'll be there in ten minutes." Jason added from the driver's seat. Hannibal closed his eyes and focused on the sweet contact of her skin on his.  
  


* * *

  
The car stopped brutally.  
  
" - Here we are !" Jason announced. Clarice opened the back door.  
" - OK. You two stay here and wait for me. I'm gonna check that everything is all right.  
- Don't worry, agent Starling." Hannibal said, a strange smile on his face. "I won't run.  
- Very funny !"  
  
Clarice checked her gun and stepped out.  
  
The building had visibly not been inhabited for years. It was a large mansion which had probably been considered as luxurious some time ago. But nature had taken back the ownership of the place now and the once white facade was invaded by ivy, the courtyard covered with weed. The french windows on the ground floor were all broken and the front door laid on the floor.  
  
Clarice walked cautiously to the entrance. The only sounds she could hear were the squawking of the birds. She stepped in, her gun in her hand. The inside was as ruined as the outside. The furniture was still there but they had suffered from years of total abandon. The place had for sure been pillaged of anything valuable.  
  
She started to explore the rooms one by one. On the ground floor first, then upstairs. The place was deserted. After ten minutes or so, she finally found two rooms on the first floor where the windows were still there. In the largest one was a fireplace. It had not been used for years and would need to be cleaned if they did not want to die suffocated, but at least they could keep Lecter warm.  
  
The bed had no more mattress but the bedspring seemed in good conditions. She pulled down the heavy curtain the was still partly hanging by the window. That would make an acceptable blanket. It was certainly not the ultimate comfort, but that would do for a few days.  
  
She went down and out.  
  
When she arrived to the van, Jason had joined his father in the back and was holding his hand, soothing him gently. She stepped in and kneeled on the floor.   
  
" - OK." she said. "The place is clear. Dr. Lecter, we're gonna take you upstairs, but we're gonna need your help.  
- All right." Then looking at Jason he added: "Don't worry, I'll be fine.  
- It's the last effort. Then you can rest. Jason ?  
- I'm ready."  
  
They helped him out of the van and on his feet. Jason and Clarice placed themselves on each of Hannibal' s side and he leaned on them. The first step drew a moan of pain from him but then he grit his jaws. They were progressing very slowly and it took them almost ten minutes to get to the room Clarice had prepared. They made him lay on the bed on his stomach.  
  
Clarice sent Jason to get the medical stuff in the car. When he was out, she stared at Lecter. He was as pale as chalk. She sat on the bed next to him and put her hand on his back. "You're almost there." she said. He nodded but was not able to utter a single word.  
  
Jason came back and laid the case at Clarice' s feet.  
  
" - Jason, water and electricity have been cut off. And we're gonna need something to eat too. Can you drive to the closest village and see what you can get ?" The young man glanced at his father.  
" - But ...  
- Jason, I've got to extract this bullet. You can't help me know, but we're gonna need these things. **He**'s gonna need them. soon it will be night and ...  
- All right. I'll go.  
- Good. We need water, and some lamps. See if you can find a portable stove and some canned food.  
- OK.  
- We're gonna try to make a fire too. We need something to clean that fireplace and an axe to cut some wood.  
- Matches.  
- Yes. And two sleeping bags for us and some blankets for him."  
  
Jason left and a few seconds later she heard the sound of the engine.  
  
Hannibal was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. She took the little case and filled one syringe with morphine. She made him the injection. He was trembling.  
  
After a few minutes she felt his body relaxing and he opened his eyes.  
  
" - Shall we ?" she asked.  
" - I'm ready."  
  
She took the instruments she would be needing and started undoing the bandage.  
  
" - Have you ever done this before, Clarice ?  
- Not on a living human being. I guess it's time to see if the instructions they gave me were correct.  
- So I will be a sort of guinea pig, won't I ?  
- You will have to trust me on this one, Dr. Lecter.  
- I do."  
  
Clarice was not so sure she could trust herself, but they did not have the choice. She had to hurry before the light decreased too much. Her movements were hesitant first, but then she acquired confidence.  
  
The whole operation lasted a little less than one hour. She extracted the bullet without difficulty. The most complex and painful part was to settle the broken bone, but she managed that too. Then she put stitches to close the wound.  
  
Hannibal lecter had remained conscious during the whole process, but now his strengths were leaving. She had helped him lay lying on his back, and he was alternating moments of wake and moments of sleep. He had a high fever and his whole body was agitated by shivers. Clarice was beginning to feel the cold and was longing for Jason to come back. She was tired, but was struggling not to doze.  
  


* * *

  
It was dark when Jason returned. He roughly laid all he had bought in a corner of the room and went directly to his father.  
  
" - How is he doing ?  
- He's gonna be fine, Jason. He's still weak and it will take him time to recover, but he's gonna make it.  
- ... Thank you, Clarice ... For everything ...  
- It's OK. So, did you find everything ?  
- Yes. I think so."  
  
They both went to the bags he had brought and started to unpack the things. Clarice switched on one of the gas lamps and took a long sip of water. Then she opened her sleeping bag and wrapped it around her shoulders.  
  
They were both exhausted and starving. Jason prepared some canned vegetables he had bought and they ate in silence. Once sated, they settled in their sleeping bags on the floor. They were too tired to suffer from the lack of comfort. But strangely, now that they could rest quietly for the first time in days, sleep did not come.  
  
They started to talk, their voices being mere murmurs in the dark. They talked about themselves. It was awkward but there, in the night, not able to see the young man' s face or the way he looked at her, Clarice felt free to speak. They told each others memories of their childhood. Clarice had not confided like that in anybody for a very long time. It was almost dawn when they finally fell asleep.  
  


* * *

  
Two days passed and the occupants of the old hotel settled in a sort of routine. Hannibal was oscillating between long sleeps and few moments of consciousness. Clarice tried to make him eat something but he took very little. The fever had decreased a bit, but he was still very weak.  
  
Jason and she were taking turns at his bedside. They used the other bedroom to get some sleep and had managed to arrange a little bit the place and make it more livable.  
  
Twice a day one of them was getting to the car to listen to the news on the radio. The police had been alerted by a farmer who had heard the gunfire. They had found two dead corpses in the farm courtyard. The case was making the local headlights for such events were rather rare in the area. But the news hardly passed the limits of the county. The bodies had not been identified yet.  
  
Clarice knew they would manage identifying Menendez, but she doubted the local police would ever succeed in understanding what had really happened. The sheriff who was in charge had declared they were certain other people had been involved, but that they had no clue so far of their identities. Apparently, Willinger had disappeared.  
  
Though he was most probably already in another state or even country, Clarice felt it was still too risky to move back to Lecter' s house.  
  
Jason had called his mother to reassure her and tell her he would extend his holidays. On her side, Clarice had informed her office that she would not be back before Monday. Nobody seemed worried about her absence.  
  
It was almost 2 am on Friday morning. Jason was sleeping in the other room. Clarice was sitting in an armchair they had found downstairs and repaired a bit. The night was silent.  
  
She had thought much during these last two days. She had had time to. But yet, she had hardly come to a conclusion. She knew that the more she waited the more difficult it would be to turn him in or find a valid explanation. She also knew that if she had waited so long it was because a part of her had already decided to let him go. But there was always this other part of her, FBI agent Clarice M. Starling, law enforcement officer, committed to serve the law since she was seven years old ...  
  
What could she do with this part of her ? How would she cope with her boss and her colleagues if she let Hannibal Lecter escape again ? But, much more important, how would she cope with her own look in the mirror every morning ?  
  
Clarice stood up and left the room discreetly. She went downstairs and then out. The night was cold but she needed a little privacy. She took her cell phone and dialed the one number she knew she could always count on. The phone started to ring on the other side. When somebody finally took up, the voice sounded sleepy.  
  
" - Mapp ...  
- Ardelia, it's me. Sorry to wake you up but ...  
- ... Clarice ? Is that you, girl ?  
- Yes. Same old me.  
- Hold on, Clarice. I've got to get out of here."  
  
Clarice heard the sound of an object falling on the floor and then her friend swear. She could not help a smile. She should have known Ardelia was probably not alone ...  
  
" - OK. Where are you ? What's happening ?  
- Nothing. I'm fine. I just needed to talk to someone.  
- In the middle of the night ?  
- Sorry ... Bad idea. I'll call you tomorrow.  
- Wait ! Hold on ! It's no problem. Now you got me up anyway and I won't be able to get back to sleep if you don't tell me what's on your mind.  
- OK. But it was nothing in particular. You know ... just wanted to hear a friendly voice."  
  
There was a moment of silence. Then Ardelia asked:  
  
" - Is it going **that** bad in New York ?  
- No. It's all right. People treat me like a human being here. Which is already a big step forward.  
- I see what you mean. Oh, I met Swanson last week. He asked me about you."  
  
Mike Swanson had been at the academy with them. He had left the FBI a few years before to open his own Private Investigation agency. Swanson had been one of the very few to write to her after the Chesapeake events.  
  
" - Really ? How is he doing ?  
- Fine, it seems. Married, two kids, good business ... He took at least twenty pounds.  
- Umm ... Lack of exercise ...  
- You bet ... Clarice ?  
- Yes ?  
- Are you having those nightmares again ?"  
  
Her friend' s voice had turned very serious and concerned. The simple fact of someone worrying for her in this world cheered Clarice up a bit. She had never talked to Ardelia about the content of her nightmares. But having slept in the same room for months, there were some things her friend just could not ignore.  
  
" - No. Well ... not really." Clarice found it difficult to lie to her. "Just once.  
- Tonight ?  
- No. A few days ago. It had been some time ...  
- And what triggered it ?  
- Nothing. The stress I guess. For the first time in months I've been given something like a real mission. I suppose I'm scared not to measure up.  
- Don't play with me, kid.  
- No, I swear. There was no particular reason ...  
- And now you needed to talk to me, in the middle of the night. Clarice, what is it ?"  
  
Clarice was not sure herself of why she had called Ardelia, or rather of what she could expect from that call. She had just felt the irresistible need to hear her voice, the voice of the one person who had never judged her. She knew she could not talk about Lecter.  
  
" - Ardelia, can I ask you a question ?  
- Of course.  
- It's not an easy one, and you're not obliged to answer. But if you do, I need an honest answer, not a friendly one ...  
- Shoot.  
- ... Did I betray the FBI ?  
- What ?  
- All they taught us, back at Quantico ... the law, the order ... Do you think I betrayed that ?  
- What are you talking about ? Clarice, you're one of the best agent the FBI has, if they would only accept to open their eyes ...  
- I **know **that. I was good. But that's not what I'm asking you. Last year ... When I decided to go to Verger' s estate on my own ... When I disobeyed Pearsall' s orders to go to the rescue of Lecter, a wanted criminal, murderer of several ... Do you think that I betrayed the oath I took ?"  
  
For a few seconds, the silence became deafening.  
  
" - Why are you asking me this, Clarice ?  
- Because I need to know. Ardelia, you're the only person I can count on to tell me the truth. I've been asking me this question for months and now I don't know anymore. I want to know **your** opinion ... Whatever the answer is ... Yes or no, it does not matter, but I need to know.  
- Clarice, why did you do it ?  
- What ?  
- Why did you go there ? Why did you disobey to direct orders ?  
- I ... I knew Verger had Lecter, and that he was going to kill him.  
- Did you say that to Pearsall ?  
- Yeah, I did. But he wouldn't have done anything.  
- Why ? Why didn't he listen to you ?  
- ... He did not care, Ardelia. Why should he have ? We're talking about Hannibal Lecter, not a common citizen.  
- What about Mason Verger, Clarice ? If he had killed Lecter, what would that have been ?  
- A ... murder."  
  
Clarice was seeing where her friend was going to now. And an unbelievable feeling of relief overwhelmed her.  
  
" - So," Ardelia went on, "as an FBI agent you had the intuition that a murder was going to be committed, and you decided to try to prevent it. Clarice, you know how I've always felt about Lecter, but in that particular story, you are the only one who has respected her oath.  
- ... Thanks, Ardelia.  
- No problem. I'm sincere.  
- I know you are.  
- ... You still don't want to tell me what's going on, do you ?  
- I can't. The rest I have to sort it out by myself.  
- All right. But let me know.  
- I'll call you next week. I promise. Go back to sleep, now.  
- OK. Good night."  
  
Clarice took a deep breath and let the cold air penetrate her lungs. She had followed the rules. Not that she thought she hadn't before, but hearing someone else say it, even if it was her best friend, was like feeling a purifying shower on her skin.  
  
She had done what they had taught her to do. And they had rejected her. Now she was going to act on what **she** believed was right and wrong. Clarice went back in and climbed up the stairs. She felt much better than she had in days.  
  
She carefully opened the door but was alerted by some noises. She ran to the bed. Hannibal was sleeping but his head and his members were shaken by random movements. He started to mumble something but she could not understand what he was saying. It did not sound like English.  
  
Clarice sat on the bed next to him and put her hand on his chests. She shook him gently. "Dr. Lecter ..." she first whispered. But as no sign came he had heard her she raised her voice. "Dr. Lecter, come on ... Wake up !" She had both her hands on his shoulders now and was shaking his body harder. "Dr. Lecter, you're having a nightmare. Wake up now !".  
  
She was despaired to get a reaction from him when she suddenly felt two powerful grasps on her wrists. She had not even seen his hand move, but they were now holding her arms with such force that a cry of pain escaped her throat. The noise finished to wake him up. He was staring at her, eyes wide opened and what she saw in his eyes scared her to death.  
  
It was pure fury, indescribable rage, as if fire was bursting out of his pupils. She realized this was the last image his victims had had before they died and suddenly all the certainties she had had one minute before vanished. For a moment, she had forgotten who he was. Now she could never forget that again.  
  
It did not last more than a second and the rage was replaced by confusion. As soon as he recovered his senses, the pressure on her wrists disappeared instantaneously. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." he whispered. She put her hand on his chest and helped him back to the bed.  
  
" - It's OK. You had a nightmare, but it's over now." Her voice was soothing.  
" - Clarice ... I did not want to hurt you, I ...  
- I know. You just woke up. You didn't know ... And you did not hurt me anyway."  
  
His eyes went to her wrists where the marks of his fingers were contradicting her last words.  
  
" - It's all right. Don't worry. I know what nightmares are, you know ...  
- Yes ... I did not want to hurt you.  
- I know."  
  
Clarice was trying to hide the feeling of discomfort she had had just before, but she was almost certain he could see it anyway.  
  
" - How do you feel ?" she asked.  
" - Tired  
- No kidding !" he smiled to her.  
" - But better." he added.  
  
She put her hand to his forehead.  
  
" - Fever has dropped down." she confirmed. "How is pain ? We've got some pain-killing tablets there if you want.  
- Not necessary. I'm fine. How long have I ... been sleeping ?  
- A little more than two days.  
- I see. Where is Jason ?  
- Sleeping, in the other room. We've been taking turns.  
- Oh ... I'm sorry to have been such a bother."  
  
Then he gave her another smile. Clarice was still disturbed and did not know what to say. So she turned back to concrete things.  
  
" - Are you hungry ?" she asked. "I can prepare you something. Not fine cooking of course, but something hot.  
- No, thank you. But I would appreciate some water.  
- Of course."  
  
Clarice took a bottle of mineral water and helped him to drink. They remained silent for a while. Hannibal had closed his eyes and she was wondering if he had got back to sleep. The familiar sound of his voice almost startled her.  
  
" - I think I forgot to thank you, Clarice.  
- It's fine. Don't worry. Just tell me when you are hungry.  
- I was not speaking about the water ...  
- Oh ...  
- I believe that once more I owe you my life."  
  
Clarice did not answer. He stared at her but his eyes were full of tenderness now. The range of emotions this man could so easily express in his look was incredible. "Would you mind telling me what happened ?" he asked gently.  
  
She started telling him. From her first encounter with Jason to the final gun battle at the farm. He let her talk, asking only a few questions. Always sticking on the facts, he never asked her anything personal. She started relaxing.   
  
Hannibal fell asleep shortly after she finished her story. She stayed seated by his bed, watching him in the scarce light of the chimney fire, apparently calm, while the conflicts of her emotions were raging in her head.  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Ardelia Mapp and Paul Krendler (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Yep ! It's me again ! And it's not yet the last chapter. I'm trying to make it last for you, guys, but I'm not sure how long I can go on like this *exhausted smile*. Just my poor way to thank you for reading it. Hope you enjoy chapter 12.  
  
  
**Chapter 12**  
  
She managed to sleep whole morning on Friday. A few hours of undisturbed sleep that made her feel reborn. When she joined the two men, Jason was preparing lunch.  
  
Before, he had helped his father wash and shave and Lecter was looking much better. In fact, he was recovering faster than what she had expected. The two men welcome her with enthusiasm and she was officially invited to share their lunch.  
  
The atmosphere was light and pleasant. After what they had been through, the three of them truly enjoyed a little bit of respite.  
  
After lunch, Clarice checked Lecter' s wound and decided it had healed enough for his leg to be put in a plaster cast. They put themselves to work. The material Jason had bought from a local hardware store was not really fitting their purpose, and none of them had ever done this before. But they followed Lecter' s instructions and after two hours or so they were satisfied with the results. For sure it was not like anything a professional doctor would have done, but that would do.  
  
As soon as they were done with it, Jason announced he had a job to finish, and he left the room with a mischievous smile. Clarice knew he had been working on making some crutches out of wood he had gathered from dismantled pieces of furniture. But she did not want to spoil his surprise. And so, when Hannibal looked at her with an interrogative smile, she faked not to know what it was all about.  
  
He was sitting on his bed and looked tired.  
  
" - How do you feel ?" she asked. "Do you want one of these pills now ?  
- I guess I could use one."  
  
She handed him the medicines and a glass of water. Then she went to stand by the window. Even with her back turned to him, she could feel him watching her.  
  
" - Jason told me this morning how you took care of him." he said after a while. "Thank you for that. According to him, you did everything.  
- He's a nice kid.  
- Yes, he is ... Despite all the negative genes he inherited from his father ..."  
  
Clarice turned to him. An ironic smile was set on his face. She chuckled. "Lets say he did not have all the chances on his side." she answered. She went to sit in the armchair.  
  
" - You look tired, Clarice.  
- Do you want me to bring you a mirror ?  
- That won't be necessary." he said laughing.  
  
Clarice knew the moment of euphoria they had had before had passed. All the serious questions which had haunted her in the last days had come back. And still they were waiting for the proper answers.  
  
" - Jason also told me about the ... uncertainty of my future.  
- I had to set priorities.  
- And I am glad you did. Or I would not be able to discuss this with you now.  
- It's nothing personal, but I don't really feel like discussing it with you, Dr. Lecter.  
- I can understand that. But yet, you can imagine he is rather ... concerned about your choice.  
- He loves you.  
- Yes. And no matter how odd it may sound to you, I love him too.  
- I know."  
  
Hannibal tilted his head on the left and raised an eyebrow.  
  
" - Your escape at the farm was a desperate attempt." she explained. "You would not have tried that if it had not been to protect him.  
- Umh. So, you've understood that too.  
- Anybody with half a brain would have understood that.  
- You've got much more than half a brain, Clarice. This, I never doubted."  
  
Clarice was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She knew a serious conversation would eventually come. But she was not prepared for it. Not yet. Not with such an adversary.  
  
" - Jason confessed he told you a lot. About him I mean." As she did not answer he went on. "These are precious information which, in wrong hands, could become very dangerous for him. I am sure you realize that.  
- I guess he trusted me.  
- He sure does. And so do I. But I do not feel so confident with the rest of your colleagues, and ... Please understand me, Clarice. I am concerned for my son and his safety, that's all. In case you would decide to arrest me, things would get pretty dirty. I would not like Jason to be involved in it."  
  
She looked at him in disbelief. The idea of 'involving' Jason had not even occurred to her. Yet, she realized his concern was legitimate.  
  
" - I never intended to involve him, Dr. Lecter. Believe me.  
- Thank you, Clarice. I appreciate that.  
- I'm doing it for you.  
- I know. But I am still grateful. And I promise I will comply to whatever your decision will be. I am at your mercy, Clarice."  
  
He smiled at her. And even if his smile was gentle, it upset her. He was so calm ... How could he be so calm when she was so disturbed ? After all, it was **his** life they were discussing about.  
  
" - You are still angry at me, aren't you ?" he asked.  
" - ... Our last encounter was not exactly a pleasant moment, doctor.  
- I suppose it depends on the point of view ... But I will spare you the argument.  
- Point of view ?" She had raised her voice. "You murdered a man, Dr. Lecter. I don't see this as **arguable**."  
  
He opened his mouth to answer but she interrupted him before he could say a word.  
  
" - And don't tell me you did it for me ! I implored you not to do it. But you wouldn't listen to me. You were enjoying too much your little joke, weren't you ?  
- Is this really what you think, Clarice ? That it was a **joke** for me ?  
- What else ?  
- I killed Paul Krendler. I cannot possibly deny that. What is arguable instead is whether or not Paul Krendler was a man ...   
- And who do you think are you to decide this, doctor ? God ?"  
  
She read something strange in his eyes. As if her last words had hurt him. He kept his voice low but something in his tone had changed. Something cold.  
  
" - No, Clarice. I never thought I was God. I don't believe I have half His sense of humor. But who do you think Paul thought he was ? You remember Paul, don't you, Clarice ? Who gave **him** the right to play with you ? Who was **he** to decide to destroy your career because you refused to be his toy ? Do you honestly believe he hesitated one second before selling you to Mason Verger ?  
- That's not the point, he ...  
- That's precisely the point, Clarice. And I think you know it. These people you call yours have done nothing but **use **you, the way it suited them most. They taught you what was right or wrong. They told you how to behave and what to do. And when you did it, they rejected you.  
- The system is not perfect but ...  
- Perfect ? What would you call it then, Clarice ? They believed they had the right to control you, to decide if you should live or die, how you should live and when you should die ... So who takes himself for God ? Can you answer this, Clarice ?  
...  
- I don't expect you can understand."  
  
Her voice was ice cold.  
  
" - Then tell me, Clarice. Enlighten me." She hated his smile when he said this.  
" - There are laws, Dr. Lecter. Limits one should not trespass. And this is the only way a society can survive. And like it or not, there must be men and women to ensure the law is respected. It is not an easy job. Nobody said it would be. But it has to be done. To protect the society.  
- To protect it from people like me, right ?  
- Yes. From people who consider they can live by their own rules, no matter the consequences for others. And this is what I decided to do.  
- ... To save the lambs."  
  
Clarice shivered to the last words. How could he use that against her !  
  
" - It is a most generous concept. But then what are you doing here ? Why didn't you call the FBI when Jason came to you ? If you trust and respect your colleagues so much, Clarice, why didn't you ask for their support ? Why are you still hesitating on whether or not you should arrest me ? I told you I would not resist. And you know **I** never lied to you, don't you ? It would be so easy, Clarice ... and so rewarding ... I am not trying to convince you not to do it, Clarice. I'm just asking why ?  
- I guess you think you know the answers, don't you, Dr. Lecter ? You think you're smart enough to know what's in my head, right ? And maybe you can decide for me, can't you ? You surely know what's best for me, better than I know myself.  
- No. On the contrary. I just want to ensure that whatever decision you will make, it will be **your** decision, Clarice."  
  
She stared at him with all the anger and determination she was able to. "I think I have taken my decision now, Dr. Lecter." she spat. "Now, if you will excuse me ...".  
  
She walked to the door and opened it violently. She almost fell onto Jason, who was coming back with the two crutches he had just fixed. She did not say a word to him. She passed him and ran down the stairs.  
  
Jason was flabbergasted. He entered the room hesitantly and looked at his father.  
  
" - What happened ?" he asked.  
" - I believe Clarice is somewhat angry with me, Jason.  
- Why ? What did you do to her ?"  
  
Hannibal looked intensely at his son, silent for a while. Then he finally answered.   
  
" - I told her the truth, Jason. You see, truth is a strange thing. Most people will hate you if you don't tell them the truth, but when you tell it, they hate you more ... Not Clarice though. Clarice just needs some time to accept it.  
- She saved your life, dad. You did not have to hurt her.  
- I had no pleasure doing it.  
...  
- But one day you told me she is the only woman you could love ..."  
  
Hannibal raised an eyebrow.  
  
" - Did you tell her that ?" he asked.  
" - Of course not.  
- Good ... I believe I do love her, Jason. But I love the person she **is**, not the person that would be more convenient for me in this moment."  
  


* * *

  
Clarice went out of the hotel. She could not stand staying in the same house as him. Her blood was boiling. Without even deciding it, she started to run. Not one of these morning jog her body was used to. She was running as if the devil was after her. She had no idea where she was going but did not even care. She **needed **to run.  
  
She did not know how long she had been running or how many miles she had done. She had followed the first road she had found and then gone through some fields. Now she was in a kind of forest. Her whole body was aching. She stopped out of breath.  
  
She walked a few steps and leant against a tree. Only then did she realized that the night had fallen. Her strengths abandoned her and she crouched down. She let go off.  
  
A first tear went slowly down her cheek, soon followed by another one. Then she opened the gates and cried freely, her body shaken by terrible sobs. During long minutes she stayed there in the dark, unable to control the flood of her frustration and pain, her face unrecognizable, as disfigured by years of war. But no one was there to watch. She was alone. She had never felt so lonely.  
  
She stopped only when she had no more tears to shed. She sat on the floor. She was feeling so empty, as if someone had drawn all energy from her body. But her mind was still running. There was no way to stop it, no peace to get after the battle.  
  
She heard his voice as clearly as if he was sitting there next to her. The words he had told her today, but also the ones he spoke that first day in Baltimore. "You were wrong, Dr. Lecter." she whispered. "It was not ambition. I'm just trying to do what I feel is right, and to do it the best I can. But how can I do it when everything around is just confusion. How could you understand that ?"  
  
She thought he was wrong on ambition, but she also knew that all the rest he had said, then or a few hours ago, was true. What seemed to her as ages ago, she had violated the rules. She had let him enter into her head. She had shared with him some of her most intimate thoughts. Of course, she could always pretend to everybody that she had done so to save a young woman, that it was the only way to get Lecter' s help with Buffalo Bill. And that was true. At least at the beginning ...  
  
But she knew better. Even if it was still painful to admit, she had not hated these first moments with Hannibal Lecter. Or rather ... she had loved them at least as much as she had hated them.  
  
Clarice Starling had grown up without affection since the age of seven. She had never had someone who cared enough about her to take the time to try to understand what she was thinking. Not until she met him. She had no illusions. It had been just a game for him. He was locked in Baltimore and had seen her as an amusing distraction to the emptiness of his days.  
  
But last year was different. He was free and had no need to come back to her. His concern for her then, even if it could be considered as twisted, had been genuine and disinterested. And now she was supposed to turn this man to justice ...  
  
Clarice shivered at the thought of that night at Krendler' s lake house. A man died that night. And yes, she had tried to convince Lecter not to kill him, without success. Anyone would have been traumatized by such a night. Anyone ... She took a deep breath and for the first time, there, alone in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, she dared admit to herself what Hannibal Lecter had understood for a long time. What she had been denying with all the strength of her psyche ...  
  
What had distressed her so much that night was not the death of Paul Krendler. Nor was the way Lecter killed him. What had devastated her was the realization that she did not care. She had been the witness of a murder and had not felt a single emotion for the victim. She had protested, but because it was her duty. Inside, she didn't care whether Krendler would live or die.  
  
"What is arguable instead is whether or not Paul Krendler was a man ... " Lecter' s words resounded in her head. For sure Krendler had been an asshole. But the fact that she, Clarice Starling, had given up on another human being was the most difficult thing she would ever have to accept.  
  
Hannibal Lecter had guessed that. But had he guessed the other part of her secret ? Had he understood that she had felt more sorry for him when she had cuffed him than she had felt for Krendler as he was eating his own brain ... Did he know the physical pain in her body when he had chopped off his own thumb ...  
  
Clarice shook her head violently and grit her teeth. She did not want to go further. She did not feel strong enough to go on. It was already too difficult to admit she had ... missed him.  
  
Clarice spent other long minutes seated on the floor, progressively emptying her head from painful memories. She managed to clear her mind and to calm down.  
  
Of course she would let him go. The realization that, deep down inside, she had known it from the very beginning made her slightly sad. But she would have to learn to live with it.  
  
She stood up and started to walk her way back to the house.  
  


* * *

  
It was almost midnight when she reached the old hotel. She was physically exhausted but not sleepy. When she entered the building, she did not hesitate one second and made her way up the stairs, directly to his room.  
  
She met Jason in the corridor. The way the young man looked at her confirmed to her that she was looking like hell. "Clarice !" he said, worry in his voice, "Are you all right ?". She put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
" - Yes, Jason. Thanks. I needed some time on my own, but I'm fine now.  
- I was worried.  
- Sorry for that. And for having let you alone. You look tired too. You should get some sleep. I'll take over now.  
- I'm OK.  
- No, really. I'm not sleepy anyway."  
  
Jason stared at her for a few seconds in silence. He sounded embarrassed when he spoke again.  
  
" - Clarice ... I don't know exactly what happened between you two this afternoon. My father wouldn't tell ... But I could perfectly understand it if you did not want to go back in. You don't have to ...  
- I don't feel I have to.  
- I'm sincere.  
- I know you are. But it's all right."  
  
As he was still making no move, she added: "Jason, I promise !" and she gave him a warm smile. He smiled back at her. "Good night, Clarice." he whispered, and he planted a little kiss on her cheek. Then, before she could even answer, he was gone.  
  
Clarice carefully opened the door and entered Lecter' s room. He was sleeping peacefully. She got closer to the bed and watched him for a while. He was much less impressive when his eyes were closed, she thought. And this thought made her smile.  
  
She delicately moved his arm a bit and sat on the bed, careful not to wake him up. He moved slightly but did not open his eyes. His breathing remained steady.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal had **felt** her come in more than he had heard her. After a moment she took his arm and set it aside. Then he felt her weight on the bed. He decided to let her think he was still sleeping though.  
  
He knew the last hours had been tough on her. And he was not sure how far she had gone in this battle of her emotions that had been ravaging her for so long. He did not want to add to her trouble now. He didn't know if she was ready to look at him in the eyes yet, and he decided to give her time.  
  
The sound of her breathing, so close, was lulling him. He was aware of every single sigh, and of her slightest movements. She seemed calm and in peace with herself. He waited for another half hour and then he slowly opened his eyes.  
  
She looked exhausted, but serene. Like a soldier coming back home victorious after a long and terrible war. An indefinable feeling of pride overwhelmed Hannibal' s heart.  
  


* * *

  
He opened his eyes and stared at her. If he was surprised to see her there, he didn't show. They both remained silent for seconds that seemed like hours to Clarice. She was dreading his first words. But these never came.  
  
Instead, he raise his right hand and rested it at the junction of her neck and shoulder. He did not move for a while, as if asking her permission to go further. Then his hand went slightly up her neck and his thumb came brushing her cheek gently. Their eyes were locked.  
  
Clarice felt the pressure of his fingers on the back of her neck and slowly, but firmly, he drew her to him, until her head came to rest on his shoulder, her back turned to him.  
  
Clarice raised her legs to the bed and curled up against his side. She could feel the warmth of his body against hers, and the regular movements of his chest when he breathed.  
  
She closed her eyes. She felt no fear, no tension. What this man was giving her was the simplest and most genuine comfort a human being could give to another human being. The fact that it was given to her by a known murderer and cannibal did not matter anymore. It was the one thing she most desperately needed at this very moment. And he had understood it.  
  
When he felt the first tear roll on his shoulder and down his arm, Hannibal put his and on Clarice' s back and started to very gently stroke it. He let her cry without a word. Words were useless. After a while he felt her body relax further and her breathing slow down. When he got certain she was sleeping, he murmured: "Good night, Clarice. Have nice dreams, my love."  
  
Hannibal Lecter did not get back to sleep that night. He laid in the dark, his eyes wide opened, breathing her, savoring each and every second.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Ardelia Mapp and Paul Krendler (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Little romance transition chapter before we get back to action. Thanks for reading.  
  
  
**Chapter 13**  
  
The first rays of sun where playing in her hair. The effect was stunning. She had been sleeping peacefully whole night. Hannibal was getting stiff and his body was aching, but he didn't dare to move, afraid to wake her up. For one thing, she deserved the rest. And the feeling to have her so close to him was so overwhelming that he wanted it to last as long as possible.  
  
After an hour or so, Clarice finally started to move slightly. She stretched and then opened her eyes. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was and remember what had happened the night before. Not knowing if Lecter was sleeping or not, she carefully turned to him. He was staring at her, a gentle smile on his lips.  
  
" - Good morning, Clarice. Did you sleep well ?  
- Umm ... Best sleep I had in a long time.  
- I'm happy for that.  
- You look tired. Are you sure you're OK ?  
- Umm ... Best night I had in a long time." he answered, imitating her accent.  
  
She chuckled and he laughed with her. Clarice was feeling easy, safe in his arms. But a little shy too. Though he had haunted her thoughts for years, she did not really know him. As if he was sensing her feelings, his hand went to her arm and he pulled her closer. She rested her head on his chest and put her hand on his stomach. She could hear the steady beat of his heart.  
  
Hannibal could still not believe that she accepted so easily such physical intimacy with him. He had imagined she would be tensed this morning, almost regretting what had happened. This woman would never stop surprising him, he thought. And yet, he did not want to be too demanding. He would not force her to do anything. **She** would have to decide the next steps. He knew they did not have much time left, though. And this hurt. But he was ready to wait till she was ready. For her, he would wait.  
  
They remained like that for a moment, silent, each of them lost in his thoughts. Clarice was the one to break the silence.  
  
" - I will have to go back." she said softly.  
" - I know." She raised her face to him.  
" - Do you know everything ?". He chuckled.  
" - No, Clarice. I do not have this pretense ... But I do know you still have many things to sort out. And I cannot help you with these. You will have to do it by yourself.  
- I'm not sure I can do that." she sigh.  
" - Oh yes, you can. It will take you time, but you are up to the task ... As a matter of facts, I can't think of any task you would not be up to.  
- ... Thank you, Dr. Lecter."  
  
Hannibal smiled.  
  
" - To be honest, I'm actually thinking about something I am not sure you can do.  
- What is it ?" she asked, puzzled. He made a pause before he answered mischievously.  
" - Do you think one day you will be able to ... No ... I don't think you can ...  
- Dr. Lecter ! Tell me.  
- Do you think one day you will stop calling me 'Dr. Lecter' ? I have a name, you know ...  
- Umm ... I don't know. Looks like a pretty tough job. But I will think of it, **Dr. Lecter**."  
  
He did not have time to answer as the door suddenly opened. Jason entered the room with a tray in his hands. He froze when he saw them tucked together in the bed. None of them made a move.  
  
" - My !" Jason finally said, smiling. "I was not sure I would find the both of you alive this morning, but I guess you have made peace ...  
- I would say so, but you should ask the lady ...  
- We have." Clarice confirmed.  
  
She sat up on the bed and helped Hannibal to do the same.  
  
" - What have you got there ?" she asked Jason.  
" - Breakfast. A special one ! I went to the village and bought fresh bread and milk. I thought you two could need it, but I'm not so sure now ...  
- Of course we do !" Hannibal answered.  
" - I'm starving." Clarice added.  
  
Jason set the tray on the bed between them and pushed the armchair closer for him. In half an hour, all the good things Jason had brought had disappeared. When they were done with the breakfast, Hannibal looked at his son.  
  
" - Clarice will have to go back home today." he said quietly. "Could you drive her to the closest town and see if she can rent a car ?  
- I can stay till tomorrow ..." Clarice said.  
- As much as I would like it, I don't think this is reasonable, Clarice. You certainly had a difficult week. You need some rest before you get back to office.  
- Yeah ... I guess you're right." she surrendered.  
  
Jason was watching them.  
  
" - So ... You're going home ?" he asked hesitantly.  
" - Yes, I'm going home.  
- ... Alone ?"  
  
Clarice saw in the young man' s eyes the tension he had endured in the last days, not knowing if she would bring his father back to jail ... Not daring to ask. "Yes, Jason. **Alone**."  
  
He took a deep breath and looked so relieved that it made both Clarice and Hannibal smile.  
  
" - Good." he said. Then he realized what he had just said. "I mean ... I'm not happy that you go ! What I mean is that ...  
- I know what you mean, Jason. And it's OK. I'll miss you too.  
- ... Yes."  
  
Hannibal interrupted them before the atmosphere became too heavy. "Do you think one of you could help me up ?" he asked. "I am getting tired of laying in this bed and I would like to try these crutches." Clarice and Jason looked at him.  
  
" - Do you really think this is a good idea ?" Clarice asked. "I'm not sure you're strong enough yet.  
- Of course I am. I do not intend to run. Just a few steps ... maybe go out ... It seems we're having a beautiful day."  
  
Clarice looked perplexed, but she finally nodded. "All right." she said. "Let's try."  
  
Jason brought the crutches and stood by the bed. Clarice helped Hannibal moving his leg to the edge of the bed and sit. She saw his eyes flicker but did not say anything. When he was ready, she crouched down and put her arm behind his back and under his armpit. He raised his hand to her shoulder.  
  
" - Ready ?" she asked.  
" - When you want, Clarice.  
- Jason, get ready."  
  
They stood up together. He choked a groan as his foot hit the floor. Jason promptly put the two crutches under his arms and he leant on them, his hands clutching the handles. Clarice released her grip on him. She was about to let him go when she felt his body sway. She had just the time to catch him to prevent him from falling back on the bed.  
  
" - Easy ! I got you.  
- I'm all right." he whispered, visibly in pain.  
" - You don't look like you're all right, dad.  
- I'm fine, Jason. I am just feeling a little bit ... dizzy.  
- This was definitely not a good idea." Clarice said. "You're still too weak for this ...  
- It's OK, Clarice ... Just give me a little time, will you ?  
- You've got all the time you want." He gave her a poor smile.  
" - Yes. Thanks to you.  
- Jason, give me one of these pills there, will you ? The blue box. And a glass of water."  
  
Jason gave his father the pain-killer. Hannibal was taking deep breaths. Clarice was still supporting him. After a while, she felt his body relaxing a bit.  
  
" - Is it getting better ?" she asked.  
" - Yes. You can let me go now.  
- Are you sure ?  
- Clarice ...  
- OK ! All right."  
  
She moved away and this time he seemed more assured. He remained immobile for a few seconds and then made a first step. She could see the muscles of his arms trembling. Giving a look at Jason, she knew he had seen this too. But he did not say anything and she imitating him. Hannibal made a second step towards the door.  
  
" - You see !" he said with a triumphant smile. "I told you I could do it.  
- Yeah ... Get back to bed now."  
  
He didn't even answer, but went on his way. "Jason, could you open the door for me please." Jason had a look at Clarice. She shrugged. She knew it was a lost fight: Hannibal Lecter was definitely too stubborn for her.  
  
Getting down the stairs proved to be a difficult operation, but he managed. A few moments after, they were out of the old hotel. The air was cold but the sun was shining. Jason had followed them to the door but stopped at the outside steps. "I guess you two need a little privacy." he said mischievously. Clarice was about to protest but Hannibal intervened before she could.  
  
" - Thank you, Jason.  
- You know where to find me in case of need." he said. And he went back in.  
  
Hannibal tilted his head. "Shall we ?" he asked softly, a grin on his face. She followed him.  
  
" - There is a little pond over there." he said. "It's not far, and very nice.  
- How do you know this place, Dr. Lecter ?  
- Umm ... I first came here long ago, as a guest. I was still a renowned psychiatrist then. They had organized a kind of congress.  
- I see.  
- Then we came back about two years ago, with Jason. It was on our way, and I just wanted to show him the place. It used to be beautiful, you know.  
- I can imagine. I've never been to any rich resort, like this one has been. Not that I'm fond of this kind of places either. I guess I would feel a little bit ... out of place.  
- I don't believe you could be out of place anywhere, Clarice. Neither in a palace nor in a barn. It is just a fear you have.  
- ... I'm not sure. Rich people are a kind of ... clan. I mean, you can recognize them.  
- Why ? Because they are wearing expensive clothes ? It is not a matter of how much you can spend for your dress. All it is about is natural grace. And you have it, Clarice. You can trust me, I have some experience in these things. I used to have a lot of rich patients. And most of them would not have stood the comparison with you."  
  
Even if she could not quite believe him, his compliments were sweet to her ears. They were progressing slowly on a little path. After a curve, the pond finally appeared to their sight, about fifty yards ahead. He had not exaggerated: it was really beautiful. The water was transparent and the wind was drawing little wrinkles on it. The grass around was dark green and high, with some almost black rocks emerging here and there. On the left bank, a little group of trees were casting their shadows on the water and on the shore. They headed to the trees.  
  
" - Do you ever missed these times, Dr. Lecter ?" she asked. "I mean, your practice, the reputation, ...". He glanced at her.  
" - Not really. I admit there were moments of fun though. And living ... how could I phrase it ... in the open, had some advantages. But most of it was tedious. You know, Clarice, the majority of people who go to a psychiatrist do not have real neurosis. They just want someone to listen to them, someone who can hear them exaggerate their little problems without running away. That makes them feel important. And they are ready to pay for it. Of course, I also had real interesting cases. but it didn't represent more than ten percents.  
- Must be really boring.  
- You get used to it. But it is not as exciting as it may seem."  
  
She hesitated before asking aloud her next question. Last thing she wanted was to spoil this relation they had started to build in the last few hours, but she had to know. "Am I part of the ten percents, Dr. Lecter ?"  
  
He stopped walking and turned to her. There was genuine incredulity in his eyes.  
  
" - You're not a case, Clarice. I hope you don't believe I am trying to ... analyze you ?  
- ... I don't know, Dr. Lecter. I'm ... I'm still confused ... I ... Forget I asked. It was stupid.  
- I won't forget." He made a pause, as if he was looking for the best words. "You are allowed to ask. It is natural. Especially considering the way we met ... and the things I told you in Baltimore. But I never considered you as a case.  
- Then why ?  
- You intrigued me, from the very first moment. I saw the qualities behind the standard FBI costume and I wanted to know more about you. But it was my personal curiosity, not professional one."  
  
He started to walk again. She followed. Without turning back to her he added: "There is nothing wrong with you, Clarice. One day you will have to admit it."  
  
They remained silent until they reached the trees. Hannibal leant on a trunk. The physical effort of the walk had marked his face.  
  
" - Are you OK ?" she asked, putting a hand on his forearm.  
" - Yes." he answered. Then, seeing he could not fool her, he added: "A little tired, to tell the truth. I may have slightly overestimated my strengths.  
- Come on, let's sit here for a moment. I'll help you.  
- Are you sure you can lift me up after if I do sit ?  
- Don't worry. Put your arm on my shoulder."  
  
She took his crutches and helped him down. Once seated on the floor, his back against a tree, he sighed with relief.  
  
" - You should have told me." she scolded him. "We would have gone back inside.  
- This is precisely why I did not tell you."  
  
He winked at her and she could not help a laugh. She went to sit on his right. Without a word, he took her hand in his. His fingers were very cold and she shivered. He misunderstood the meaning of her reaction and tried to let go her hand, but she held him back.. "Just the cold." she whispered.  
  
Long minutes passed before any of them dared to break the silence. They were both feeling in peace. But there were some things Clarice simply had to tell him. "Dr. Lecter ..." she started hesitantly. He turned his face to her.  
  
" - Yes ?  
- About last night ...  
- Don't worry, Clarice. Nothing happened last night.  
- ... Yes. Something happened last night." Why was it so difficult for her to say these things. "You were there, for me. And you did the one thing I needed. I wanted to thank you for that.  
- You're welcome. I am glad I could help, but I didn't do much, really.  
- Umm ... And thank you for not having done more ..."  
  
She did not have to word it. They both did know what she meant. Hannibal took a long breath before he answered.  
  
" - I will no more do things you don't want me to do, Clarice. I promise.  
- I don't think I was ready yesterday.  
- No. I don't think so either."  
  
The next question was the most difficult to ask. Clarice had never been that daring with any man before. She looked away from him before she started to talk again. "Were you ready, Hannibal ?".  
  
Her voice had been a mere whisper. Hannibal felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He squeezed her hand, and as soon as he had regained enough composure to speak, he took her chin in his free hand and forced her to look at him. He spoke very slowly, his blue eyes staring at her intensely.  
  
"I love you, Clarice Starling. Believe me, it is as awkward to me as it can be to you. But I can't help it. I love you from the bottom of my heart. It took me a long time to understand it, but I know it now." He made a pause to give her time to accept the confession he had just made to her. "I know your emotions are confused now. You'll have to clarify how you feel and what you want. But you will have to do it by your own. I cannot help you with this, Clarice, because helping you would mean influencing you. And that would not be fair. That would not be love. I don't know if you will love me one day. But I will wait, as long as it takes. If one day you decide you want to be with me, I'll be there."  
  
She nodded.   
  
"This is all I can promise you, Clarice." he went on. "I am who I am. I won't insult your intelligence by pretending I am or will become someone else."  
  
Clarice took his hand from under her chin and brought it to her lips. She gently kissed his palm. He stopped her.  
  
" - Don't do this, Clarice. Please. As much as I desire it, I am not sure I could control myself further. And you have to go. We both know it.  
- All right." she said. She let go his hand. "We'd better go back now. Or Jason will worry."  
  
He nodded. She helped him up and they headed to the hotel. Not a single word was said on their way back.  
  


* * *

  
They had a last lunch all together. The atmosphere was a little bit morose but each of them was trying his best not to show it. Then Clarice packed her things.  
  
Hannibal accompanied her to the door. Jason was already waiting in the car.  
  
" - Well ..." she said. "I guess it's time.  
- Yes it is. I am not fond of long goodbyes, Clarice.  
- Neither am I."  
  
She smiled, a little bit embarrassed. He handed her a little piece of paper. "Take this. Learn it by heart and then throw it away. It is an email address. You can use it whenever you want to contact me. Just in case ...". She took it and stared at him in disbelief.  
  
" - It is the way Jason contacts me. The address belongs to a Rodrigo Montes, in Argentina. An old friend of mine. It is reasonably safe, but I would prefer you don't use it from your office computer.  
- Of course I won't !  
- Good. Go now."  
  
For a second, she hesitated to hug him in a last embrace. But she did not do it. She knew it would have been tougher on him.  
  
" - Goodbye, Hannibal." she simply said instead.  
" - Goodbye, Clarice. Take care.  
- Yes. You too."  
  
She went to the car without giving him another look. Jason started the engine and they left.  
  
Hannibal stayed a long time at the steps, watching their car go first, then sending an empty look at the nature around. She would never know how hard it had been for him not to call her back. It was all in her hands now.  
  


* * *

  
Jason was driving fast towards Laking, the nearest town where she could find a car. They were not talking much, and the few sentences they exchanged turned around the weather or other neutral topics. He parked before the Hertz agency. They both stepped out of the car.  
  
The paperwork didn't take long. Jason insisted on paying, arguing his father would kill him if she would not let him do. An employee brought the car for Clarice and left them in front of the little office.  
  
" - You'd better go if you want to be home before the night falls. It will take you more than two hours to get there.  
- Yes. Will you stay long with him ?  
- Until Thursday. I have an exam on Friday I can't miss. But I should be back in a couple of weeks.  
- He must keep the cast for at least a full month.  
- I know. You told me. Now I just have to convince him."  
  
They both laughed, but it was a forced laugh, that did not hide their sadness.  
  
" - Thank you, Clarice. For everything you did and ... for what you didn't do.  
- Come here."  
  
She drew him to her and gave him a big hug.  
  
" - You're a great kid, Jason. Don't let anybody tell you the contrary. I don't regret any minute.  
- Yeah. Take care of yourself. You've got my number. Don't hesitate to call if you need something.  
- I won't. Goodbye, Jason.  
- Goodbye."  
  
She patted his shoulder one last time and she jumped in the car.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Ardelia Mapp, Paul Krendler and Clint Pearsall (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Thanks for having followed me so far, and for the reviews. So, it seems you guys like both action and romance. Let's see what we can do ... Tell me if I'm on the right tracks.  
  
  
**Chapter 14**  
  
Clarice had returned in office on Monday morning, after having spent most of the Sunday sleeping on her couch. The most difficult thing to accept had been that, while so many things had changed in her own life in the passed week, everything in New York was just the way she had left it. The impossibility to share her feeling with anyone was more frustrating than it had ever been before.  
  
Peter Farrow had come to her desk to welcome her back and ask about her health. Which had surprised her very much. Farrow had been very nice and comprehensive about the job she hadn't been able to complete. He even told her that James Ellis, the colleague to whom he had asked to go on with it had made compliments about the work she had done before leaving.  
  
Clarice was very nervous the first day. She constantly had the feeling that everybody could see on her face what had happened to her, and the choices she had made. This was impossible of course. Her brain knew it. But her heart could not help skipping a few beats each time someone addressed to her. This was the price to pay for the guilt, she knew it.  
  
After a few days though, she started to relax again and behave in a more normal way.  
  
Farrow had assigned her to work with Ellis on a pirate music CD traffic. It was a rather interesting case and James was nice to work with. Besides, there was not too much pressure and that suited her for the time being. There was already a lot of things she had to reflect about.  
  
Clarice had decided to follow Hannibal' s advice and to give herself time. Maybe for the first time in her life, she was going to make an important decision taking into account only what was best for her. Not what others wanted or expected from her. Not what was more convenient for the others ... Hannibal Lecter included. What was at stake was **her** life, and for once she could afford being selfish. From her last days with him, she had understood Lecter would accept her decision, whatever it would be.  
  
That of course didn't mean she was not thinking of him. To be honest, she was primarily thinking of him. Of what he had told her, of his last confession, but also of who he actually was, and of what it would mean for her to follow him.  
  
She had stopped hiding to herself the feeling she had for him. It didn't make sense anymore. She also knew that she could never agree with what he had done ... and what he could still do in the future. The only issue at stake was to understand if she could accept him as he was, despite what he was.  
  
Once again, Clarice was reviewing the past events in her car, on her way to the office. It was Wednesday morning and she had been back to New York for ten days now. However, it seemed to her she had made little progresses in untangling the knots of her feelings. That did not scare her though. She had time. He had told her he would wait and she knew he would keep his promise to her.  
  
It was 8:30 am sharp when she laid her purse on her desk. She went to help herself a coffee and had time to drink it peacefully before James arrived. As every morning, he was still half sleeping when he greeted her.  
  
" - Let me guess ..." she said a kind smile on her face. "The clock did not ring ?  
- Oh yes, it did ring. That is, until I threw it against the wall at least ..."  
  
They both laughed. James Ellis was a very attractive thirty years old bachelor, and he spent most of his nights in discos entertaining his numerous girlfriends. Though he was always willing to give much details about his affairs, after a few days, Clarice had renounced keeping up with his very complex love life. He got a coffee and went to sit in front of her.  
  
" - So," he said, after having taken a first sip, "tell me you have resolved the case while you were waiting for me.  
- Not exactly." she grinned. "But I had a few ideas.  
- Good. Because I don't feel very much like thinking this morning. So, tell me.  
- Well, for one thing, the producer we interrogated yesterday does not convince me.  
- Rod Edwards ?  
- Yes. He told us he had never met Kazinsky, but in the same time, he's been in the business for over fifteen years. Seems strange to me he never even met him at a party or something.  
- I agree. Does not seem very likely to me either. What do you suggest ?  
- I believe it would be interesting knowing a little bit more about Mr. Edwards ... his career, his acquaintances.  
- OK. I have a few friends in the business. I can go and ask them a few questions. What do you say ?  
- Could be useful. On my side, I thought I could pay a little visit to the Harrison library. They say they have the most impressive collection of old magazines in town. I though I could leaf through a few of these 'people' thing and see if I can spot Edwards with Kazinsky. Or even separately ... It could be interesting anyway.  
- Fine with me. Do you want me to drop you there ?  
- No. It's only two blocks away. A little bit of exercise will do me good.  
- As you want. We meet here after ?  
- All right.  
- See you then. And good luck !"  
  
James stood up and left her cubicle. Shortly after, Clarice took her coat and purse and headed to the exit of the building. The perspective of spending her day in a library would have bored her extremely a few months ago. But now, it had become a job and she had decided to always try to get the positive side of it. At least she would have a few hours of peace.  
  


* * *

  
Clarice was walking the last few yards towards the FBI New York office building. Even if not very exciting, her day had been pretty much rewarding. After hours of reading old copies of people magazines and tabloids, she had finally found a picture featuring both Arnold Kazinsky, their main suspect so far, and Rod Edwards. The quality of the picture was not so good and it was not a close shot, but the two men were easily recognizable and ... they were discussing together.  
  
She had had to negotiate with the library employee to get some photocopies, but she had finally got them. While she was at it, she had also taken photocopies of other articles and pictures involving Kazinsky, alone or with other people. Her hands carrying the voluminous file of her findings, she pushed the door of the building with her back. She had to wait another five minutes before the elevator finally arrived and the muscle of her arms were starting hurting when she finally reached the twenty second floor. She sighed. Twenty more yards and she would get rid of the load.  
  
She walked hastily in the corridor and turned round the angle partition of her cubicle. She froze. For a second, she thought it was a mirage caused by her physical tiredness, but soon she had to admit it was true. In shock, she dropped the file she was carrying and the photocopies spread on the floor. "Mr. Pearsall !" she whispered in disbelief.  
  
Clint Pearsall was sitting on the top of her desk and having a coffee with Farrow. The sound of the papers falling down startled the two men and they both turned to Clarice at the same time. Pearsall smiled and raised his hand to her. "Starling !' he said. "So glad to see you again."  
  
Clarice instinctively glanced at Farrow. He looked a bit embarrassed. "Starling," he said. "I'm sure you remember director Pearsall." She hesitantly shook hands with her ex boss and tried to recompose a bit.  
  
" - Certainly." she murmured. "How are you, Mr. Pearsall.  
- Fine, thank you. Sorry to have startled you." he added, pointing at the papers on the floor.  
" - Oh ... It's OK. I just ... didn't expect to see you."  
  
Clarice kneeled and gathered the fallen photocopies quickly and put them on her desk. While doing so, her mind raced up. What the hell was Pearsall doing here ? It could not just be a friendly visit. Men like him would not grant local offices with their presence unless they had a very good reason for it. And this reason could not be her: her last meetings with Pearsall in Quantico were unpleasant enough to ensure he could very well spend his whole life without seeing her again.  
  
She looked again at the two men.  
  
" - So ..." she said, her voice falsely enthusiast. "You are paying us a little visit.  
- Not exactly." he answered. Then, turning to Farrow he added: "Though I'm always happy to meet colleagues from the field. As a matter of fact, I'm here for business.  
- Business ?  
- Yes. Something that involves you, Starling.  
- Me ?"  
  
Farrow interrupted the conversation. "I'm sure we will be more comfortable discussing this in my office." he said. Pearsall nodded and they followed him. Once in his office, Farrow closed the door. Pearsall went directly to sit in one of the armchairs in front of Farrow' s desk, while Clarice waited standing at the door. Peter Farrow was no fool. He had much too much experience with human beings not to recognize an open conflict when he saw one. He did not know everything on the circumstances of Starling departure from Washington, but he could see she did not like Pearsall. And the latter didn't like her either.  
  
He had met Pearsall only today, but he couldn't say that the first impression had been really positive. He mentally noted to question Starling later. "Please, sit down, Starling." he said. "This may take a little time." Clarice complied in silence, keeping her eyes on Farrow, carefully avoiding Pearsall' s look.  
  
" - Director Pearsall has come to ask for your re-assignment to his group." Farrow started, visibly uncomfortable with the idea. Clarice' s eyes widened in disbelief but she let him go on. "Temporarily, of course. For one mission. Maybe you could explain what it is about, Clint ?  
- Yes. Thank you, Peter. Well, Starling, it seems one of your old friends has reappeared ..."  
  
Clarice' s heart jumped in her chest. Pearsall did not have to pronounce a name. She instantly knew who he was talking about. Of course ... how could she not have guessed at once ? What in heaven could Pearsall come to her for if it was not Hannibal Lecter ? Her heartbeat accelerated in a crazy way. "What did he know ?" was the first question that came to her mind. Clarice did anything she could to remain calm, externally, but internally she was dying. She turned on her chair and stared at Pearsall, faking not to understand what he was about. Pearsall had an almost imperceptible smile, but it did not escape her.  
  
Pearsall took a solemn voice to give his next sentence all the weight it deserved: "From some news we received yesterday, we are almost certain that Hannibal Lecter is back in the United States." He made a long pause to let Clarice realize the importance of the news. Clarice had to use all her inner resources to compose her reaction with the proper surprise and fright such an announcement would have caused her if it had been made to her two weeks before. She wasn't sure she had succeeded until she caught the satisfaction on Pearsall' s face. Simultaneously, a million questions started to invade her mind. But she had to act according to priorities. First Pearsall.  
  
" - Lecter ?" she whispered, her eyes wide opened.  
" - Lecter himself." Pearsall confirmed.  
" - But how ..." As she didn't seem to be able to go on, Pearsall obligingly finished her sentence for her.  
- How do we know ? Well, I guess we should thank both science and the professional qualities of one county sheriff.  
- I don't understand, sir ...  
- Of course. Let me explain ..."  
  
She could see the pleasure of Pearsall on his face. He was delighted, as a pretentious professor lecturing a student making it clear that no matter how hard the student would work, he would never reach his level of intelligence. Clarice would have slammed his face with pleasure, but she had to behave. She had to learn more. She had to know how much they had discovered, and more than anything, how much she was involved in all this. So she assumed the face of a stupid and respectful student and waited for Pearsall to continue. Which he did willingly.  
  
"About two weeks ago, there has been a shooting in a farm near Greyson, Green County, New York. You probably haven't heard about it for it remained on local news only. However, two men were found there: one was shot dead, the other one had his neck broken. The sheriff and his men started the investigation but after a few days, they understood it was most probably not a local case. The victims were not from the area. So, he decided to call for help. He contacted our office of Albany, which was the closest. Albany sent two agents and a forensic."  
  
Pearsall asked Farrow for a glass of water and waited for it before going on. Clarice had a glance at Farrow. He did not seam at ease with all this. She patiently waited for Pearsall to proceed with his story.  
  
"- They searched the farm completely. And in the basement, they discovered some blood traces in a kind of cell. They sent some samples to our central lab, and guess what ?  
- Lecter' s blood ...  
- Right.  
- Sorry, sir, but ... are we sure of it ?  
- This is where science and Quantico contribution comes. We had kept some blood samples from Lecter. Umm ... from the kitchen, at Paul Krendler' s house ... remember ?"  
  
Clarice nodded, hardly managing to hide her anger. But Pearsall was expecting such a reaction.  
  
" - You know we have a program developed a few years ago, that collects this kind of things and is able to match DNA, don't you ?  
- G-Fetch program, yes sir, I've used it a few times.  
- Right. They inserted the samples they found in Greyson and that God-damned computer started to ring like hell."  
  
Clarice knew about G-Fetch, but she'd never thought they would use it for a local shooting case. What else had they found ?  
  
" - Do you have any clue, sir ?  
- Not yet. Blood identification came only yesterday. But it's the most serious lead we've had in a very long time.  
- Yes it is."  
  
Clarice was not sure Pearsall would tell her if he had something else, but for the moment, she had to assume this was all they had. She remained silent for a while, as if digesting what Pearsall had just told her. Then she finally asked the question he had expected her to ask next.  
  
" - Sir, I understand this is a very important element, but ...  
- But ?  
- But what do I have to do with it ?"  
  
Farrow, who had remained silent till then, cleared his throat and answered.  
  
" - Clint has come in person to organize your temporary transfer to his group, to cooperate on the Lecter case.  
- What ?  
- Let me finish, Starling. Clint explained his reasons to me and I think that they are more than valid. Objectively, you are the agent who knows better Lecter ... His habits, his way of life, his interests, ...  
- I consigned all I know in the file, sir.  
- There are things that cannot be put in files, Starling. Intuition is one of them. And that could make the difference.  
- That is ... if you really want Lecter to be caught, of course." Pearsall added.  
  
It took Clarice half a second too much to answer, but none of the men noticed it.   
  
" - How could you question my loyalty, sir !" she spat. "I've spent all my ...  
" - Nobody has doubts on your loyalty, Starling." Farrow interrupted her. He looked at Pearsall with anger. Pearsall finally acknowledge reluctantly. "And I am sure you will do anything possible to help on this case."  
  
Clarice looked at her feet to conceal her rage. Her voice was plain and calm when she spoke again. "I thought that my ... involvement in the Lecter case was one of the reason why I was set aside from the bureau, wasn't it, Mr. Pearsall. Why call on me now ?". Officially, she had never been forced to leave Quantico. But the three of them knew better. Farrow really didn't look at ease in his role, but Pearsall instead seemed to enjoy the situation very much. He was the one to answer to her.  
  
" - Time has passed, Starling. And the conditions are different. One must learn to adapt in life. Take it as an opportunity to demonstrate us we were wrong.  
- Situation has changed all right. Now you need me. So you think you can just show up and ...  
- That's enough, Starling." Farrow interrupted. "You are still an FBI agent and as such, your mission is to serve the objectives of the bureau. Whatever the assignment the Bureau has decided to give you ... We are not discussing an option here."  
  
His voice had been determined but soft. She looked at him straight in the eyes until he finally broke the contact and looked away at the window.  
  
" - Very well, sir. What am I supposed to do ?  
- You will drive to Albany tomorrow morning." Pearsall answered. "At the same time, Matt Brandon will fly there from Quantico. You remember Matt, don't you, Starling ?  
- Yes, sir. He was part of the inquisition after Chesapeake.  
- Starling !" Farrow reprimanded her.  
" - I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying to make things clear.  
- I think you made your point, Starling." Pearsall went on, a smile on his face. "Matt will be in charge. You will report to him in the morning. Albany has given us three other agents to help. Is everything clear ?  
- Perfectly clear, sir.  
- You will act as a kind of consultant, Starling." Farrow added. "And this for a maximum period of three months. Once the investigation is closed or the period is over, you will come back here. With the rank of special agent."  
  
Clarice made no mistake about the look Farrow pointed at Pearsall. Her re-instatement to her former rank had been part of the bargain, no doubt about it. And Farrow wanted to make sure Pearsall would respect his part of the deal. Clarice felt thankful for the fact that Farrow had negotiated for her. But it didn't quite compensate for what she was supposed to endure.  
  
" - What do I do with the case I'm working on ?  
- I didn't see Ellis. Is he in office today ?  
- Investigating, sir. But we were supposed to meet here in the afternoon. He's probably back now.  
- Good. Make sure you transmit all information to him before you leave. Tell him I'll talk to him tomorrow morning.  
- All right, sir."  
  
Pearsall stood up. "Well," he said, "I think you can handle the rest without me. I've got a plane in one hour, so, if you will excuse me ..." The two men shook hands and Pearsall left the office, visibly satisfied with the results of the meeting.  
  
Clarice was about to follow him when Farrow called her back.  
  
" - It's only three months, Starling. After that, you'll never hear of him again.  
- You don't know them, Mr. Farrow." she answered sadly.  
  
"Oh yes, I know them." Farrow whispered. But Clarice was already gone.  
  


* * *

  
She was walking fast in the corridors, not paying any attention to what was going on around her. Her feelings were a mix of cold anger for Pearsall and panic for the consequences of what she had just heard.  
  
She arrived at her desk and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She only partially managed. All she wanted to do was to leave the building and be alone so that she could shout. The messed up pile of photocopies on the top of her desk brought her back to reality. She had to talk to Ellis first. Not complying to Farrow' s instructions would be a big mistake at this point. She had to forget her heart and behave as a brave little soldier if she didn't want to attract attention further ... at least for the moment.  
  
She went to sit on her chair and unlocked her computer. She inserted a floppy and started to make a backup of her personal notes. While the files were being transferred, she gathered the photocopies and reorganized them. When she had finished, she took the floppy and her files and headed to Ellis' office.  
  
She knocked at the door and entered when he invited her to. She came closer and left her load on this desk. He looked at her, puzzled. "What's that ?" he asked. She sat in front of him and started to explain the situation.  
  
He let her talk without interrupting. This was one of the qualities she appreciated in him: he was able to listen. When she had finished, she told him about the results of her day of research.  
  
" - So," he said, "we can say that Mr. Edwards lied to us.  
- I guess we can.  
- I think I'm gonna pay him a little visit tomorrow morning. See if he's got a valid explanation to give me. How do you think I should tackle the question ?"  
  
Clarice did not answer. She was visibly lost in her thought. After a while, Ellis spoke again: "You're not really very enthusiast about the whole thing, are you ?". The sound of his voice startled her. She looked at him.  
  
" - Sorry, James. What were you saying ?  
- I said you don't look very happy to go back there again.  
- Not really. My assignment on the Lecter case did not end very well in fact. Just as my working for director Pearsall. But I guess you've heard about it.  
- A little bit.  
- Umm ... People talk, don't they ?  
- People always talk, Clarice. That's part of human nature."  
  
He gave her a warm smile.  
  
" - And what do **you** think ?" she asked  
" - I think it's none of my business. You're a good partner, that's all I'm interested in. The rest is tabloids stuff. Not my style.  
- Thank you, James ... Well, I think I'd better go now. I've got to pack a few things and get a real good sleep if I want to cope with this tomorrow."  
  
They shook hands and Ellis wished her luck. Then she left.  
  


* * *

  
The traffic was dense. From the minute she had left the garage, Clarice' s thoughts had gone back to Hannibal Lecter and the events of the passed weeks. She mentally reviewed everything they had done to list possible leads the FBI could follow. Did they have a way to discover her involvement in the shooting at the farm ?  
  
The guns she had used were not from the FBI, but her own. They were legally registered of course, but the two weapons were clean and not recorded in any FBI file. Therefore, unless they had very precise suspicion against her, no ballistic analysis could lead them to her.  
  
She had not entered the farm either. So, they would not be able to find any of her fingerprints. Of course, the situation was different at Lecter' s house. The furniture would be covered with her prints there. But to find them, the FBI would first have to connect Lecter to Mc Namara and locate his house. She knew it was a possibility, but that would take them time.  
  
She had not used her car or her credit card either. Of course, she had been around with Jason, asking question to people. That would for sure come out during the investigation. However, it would really be bad luck if someone would connect it to her. There was a priori no reason for that. She would just have to be careful not to go back to the places she had been with Jason.  
  
Clarice concluded that for the time being, she was reasonably safe.   
  
Until something she had not thought of suddenly came to her mind. "The car ..." she whispered. There was the car she had rented in Laking to come back to New York. Even if the contract had been established to the name of a Jason Mc Namara, she had shown her driving license and the employee had written it down. **That** could be a problem.  
  
Checking the rent-a-car agencies was part of the FBI procedures in such cases. Obviously, they would start in the area of the murders and Laking was rather distant from Greyson. It could take time, but sooner or later they would enlarge the perimeter of their searches. If they found out about the car, she would for sure have serious difficulties finding a plausible explanation.  
  
She was arriving at her place. She parked her car in front of the building and headed to her apartment. Once inside, she dropped her purse on the floor and went directly to sit on the couch, without even switching on the lights. She buried her head in her hands and closed her eyes. she took a few deep breaths.  
  
She had to calm down and plan her next moves, she knew it. But it was easier to say than to do. So much so that the image of Hannibal was appearing to her each time she was closing her eyes. She felt the urge to tell him ... So much that it almost hurt physically. He would know what to do. For sure, **he** could help her.  
  
Instinctively, she stood up and went to her computer. She switched it on and sat at her desk. But the thing was more complex than it would appear. Even if he was connected and could read her message now, what would she write to him ? She thought for a moment. What was safe to write to him ? She was convinced Pearsall was not smart enough to have any suspects of what she had been involved in. But he was certainly vicious enough to put her under surveillance, even without any valid motivation. Her hate for him was largely repaid, she knew it. But would he have her mails controlled too ? Unlikely. However, she wasn't feeling like taking the risk.  
  
An FBI agent could even be watching her house at this moment. She had a look through the window but did not notice anything. Clarice was becoming slightly paranoid and decided she had to clarify the point. She switched off the computer, grabbed her purse and went out.  
  
She started her car and left. Traffic was much less intense now, and it would be easy for her to see if someone was following her. She was driving slowly in the streets of New York, frequently changing direction. She finally parked in front of a fast food and stepped out of the car. She had not noticed anything strange yet.  
  
She went to buy herself a hamburger and when she came out of the restaurant, the street looked pretty deserted.  
  
She drove back to her apartment, yet making a few unnecessary U-turns. When she was certain nobody had followed her, she went back home.  
  
Her little trip had helped her clarify her thoughts and establish a plan. The old hotel where she had left Hannibal Lecter was not so far from Albany. She could easily drive there, inform Lecter on the situation, and report to Matt Brandon in Albany in the morning. And nobody would ever know. Clarice packed a few things in a traveling bag and left.  
  


* * *

  
She had switched on her car radio and put the volume at the maximum. She was singing aloud, alone in her car, just to avoid thinking about what she was doing. That partially worked. But from time to time, she could not prevent her thoughts to go back to her situation. There were too many unanswered questions.  
  
OK, she would go to find Lecter and tell him the FBI was after him again. And then, what ? She would just go to Albany and participate to the investigation ? Just go back in the arena again ? It was a familiar ground and she knew she could handle it with Matt Brandon, but was it really what she wanted ?  
  
And if they came closer, what would she do ? Was she ready to come to the extent of sabotaging the inquiry ? She very much doubted it. No matter what she had lived in the last two weeks, no matter what she had understood about her own life, there were principles and rules that had been so deeply instilled in her that she could probably not violate them ... Even if her own life was at stake.  
  
It was almost 01:00 am when she parked her car in front of the old hotel. The place was silent and dark. She understood immediately that something was wrong. She should have seen some light from the window, even if very slightly. The nights were still too cold and it would not have been reasonable to let the fire die in the chimney.  
  
She took a flashlight she was keeping in her car and walked in cautiously. The inside was even more silent that the outside. She climbed up the stairs, all her senses in alert. She followed the dark corridor.  
  
The doors of the rooms they had arranged during their stay were wide opened. She had a quick look inside but it was obvious the place was empty. There was no trace left of their passage. Someone had carefully messed up the place before he left.  
  
A rush of panic took hold of her heart. Then she cursed herself. She should have known he would not have stayed there long. What was she supposed to do now ?  
  
She sat for a moment on the bed, trying to clear her mind. Then suddenly, the idea came. Jason ... Jason would know where he was ! She glanced at her watch and had a grin. For an instant, she thought of calling him from a public phone box, but she decided to make a pause with paranoia. She took her cell phone and dialed the young man' s number. It rang five times before a sleepy voice finally answered.  
  
" - Hello ...  
- Jason, it's me, Clarice.  
- Clarice ?" the voice was suddenly fully awake and a little worried. "What happened ? Are you all right ?  
- Yes, I'm fine." she lied. "Jason, I'm sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night, but I need to talk to your father. He's not there anymore.  
- ... Of course he's not. It was not safe enough to leave him there alone. He's staying at Laking, in a hotel. I mean a real one. Clarice, should I worry ?  
- No ... I don't know, Jason. It's ... It's a little bit too complex to explain on the phone, but ... "  
  
Clarice hesitated to tell him all the truth. But he deserved it.  
  
" - The FBI is after him again, Jason. They are still far from him, but I need to tell him. I'm sure everything's gonna be fine.  
- I see ... The hotel is called 'Calhoun's'. It's on the main street, about two hundred yards after the agency where we rented your car. He registered as Julius Von Brandt.  
- Thank you, Jason.  
- Clarice, are you in trouble ?  
- What ?  
- Are they on your back again ?"  
  
How could he have guessed that ? she thought. Then she remembered who he was.  
  
" - Well ... sort of. But they don't know nothing yet. It's gonna be all right.  
- You'll keep me informed, won't you ?  
- ... Yes. I'll call you back later.  
- Good. Tell dad I love him.  
- I will. Goodnight, Jason.  
- Goodnight."  
  


* * *

  
The twenty minutes trip to Laking seemed like an hour to Clarice. She had given up on trying to think of something else. The perspective of seeing Hannibal again was making her chill. Since she had went back to home and office, she had decided to think of it serenely, to take the time to analyze her feelings and decide what she wanted to do with her life.  
  
But in that old deserted hotel, in the few minutes during which she had not known where he was or if she would ever see him again, the anguish that had seized her had been almost intolerable. How could she feel like that for this man ? He was so different from what she had been taught to worship all these years. When did she become so twisted a human being to fall in ... No. She could not even say it.  
  
She found Calhoun's easily. The streets of Laking were silent. It was a quiet little town and no one was out at this time of the night. She parked her car and went to the door of the little hotel. She pushed it and the door opened easily. It was dark inside. She silently made her way to the reception desk. Last thing she wanted to do was to wake up the hotel keeper or the guests. She switched on the little lamp behind the counter and leafed through the registry. It did not take her long before she found what she was looking for: J. Von Brandt, room 12.  
  
She switched off the light and headed to the stairs. The floorboards were cracking at each of her steps, but nobody showed up. She slowly progressed along the corridor until she found his room. Clarice took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Lightly first, but as no signs came from behind, she knocked harder. "Dr. Lecter" she whispered.  
  
Hannibal Lecter had always been a light sleeper. The first knocks on his door woke him immediately. He sat on his bed, wondering who could come and disturb him at such a time. He was not really worried, but his senses were in alert. When the knocking started again and he heard his name, he instantly recognized the voice.  
  
He stood up as fast as he could and went to the door.  
  
Clarice finally heard the noise of his crutches behind the door. The door opened. He was standing there in front of her, leaning on his crutches, wearing nothing else than a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She gulped. "Clarice ? What are you doing here ?". The concern in his voice did not escape her.  
  
" - I need to talk to you, Dr. Lecter. Can I come in ?  
- Of course."  
  
He moved on the right to let her in. She entered quickly and he shut the door behind her. He watched her walk to the window. "I certainly noticed you went back to the formalities, Clarice." he said playfully. "I though we had gone through these last time." She turned to him and he saw she had cried. "Clarice, you look terrible. Please sit down." he said, indicating an armchair in one corner of the room. She complied. He went to the bedside table, dropped one of his crutches on the bed and came back to her with a glass of water. "Here ... " he said, handing her the glass. "Have a little water." She took a sip and raise her face to him.  
  
The concern she read in his eyes was genuine, and his blue gaze warmed her. Without a word, he delicately put a hand on her shoulder and at this very instant, she got the answer to all her questions ... She loved him.  
  
" - How did you know how to find me ?" he asked softly.  
" - I called Jason. He told me.  
- Good ... Clarice, what is it ?"  
  
She looked at him straight in the eyes. "They're after you, Dr. L... Hannibal. The FBI." If he was surprised by her announcement, he did not show. He grabbed the only chair of the room and sat in front of her. "Tell me." he simply said.  
  
She told him everything, from her encounter with Pearsall to her fear when she had not found him in the old hotel. She did not spare him any of the facts, nor any or her feeling. He let her talk without interrupting, just nodding from time to time to encourage her to go on. At the end of her relation, she stood up and made a few steps towards the door. She turned back to him and leant against the wall. "What are we gonna do now ?" she asked.  
  
He smiled at her.  
  
" - First, you will have to calm down.  
- But ...  
- No, Clarice. Whatever the situation is, panicking will not help us. You know that. We're safe here. And we still have a little time before they understand what happened.  
- But what am I supposed to do now ? Go back there and lead them to you ?"  
  
She had raised her voice, but he knew her enough to know it was not anger she felt. He stood up and came close to her.  
  
" - I'm sorry." she said, bending her head. "I didn't want to shout at you. I'm not hysterical, it's just that ...  
- It is all right, Clarice. I know you can face the situation. I trust your strength, I told you ... What I do not know instead, is what **you** want to do. I know that not much time has passed, but ... Have you thought about it ?"  
  
She did not answer. When he put his hand under her chin and raised her face to him, a single tear was slowly rolling down her cheek. But her look was determined.  
  
"I love you, Hannibal Lecter. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."  
  
The impact that these few words had on Hannibal' s heart was indescribable. Although he had wished for it and many times imagined this moment, to hear them spoken by the only adult woman he had ever loved shook him so violently that his whole body shivered.  
  
His hand went down her neck. He came closer to her and dropped his second crutch. Clarice jumped at the sound of the wood on the floor. He shushed her and drew her closer. He tilted his head to take another look at her. She was more beautiful than ever. He buried his face in her hair and smelt her. Then he slowly bent his face and his lips finally reached her neck.  
  
The touch of his lips and tongue on her skin burnt her. Clarice hand went behind his back and grasped the thin fabric of his T-shirt. She felt his mouth find its way up her neck and on her cheek. He licked her skin where the tear had dried. One of his hand was in the small of her back now and he pulled her against him. She slipped her hand under his T-shirt and caressed the warm skin of his back. He moaned.  
  
His lips finally reached hers, first brushing them softly, then pressing and irresistibly opening her mouth to his tongue. Their first kiss was long and passionate. When they parted, breathless, Clarice was on fire. She whispered his name and her hands grabbed his head asking for more.  
  
Before she could realize, his strong arms lifted her and his tongue was exploring her throat. She raised her legs around his hips and felt his body stiffen. Without stopping to kiss her, he started carrying her to the bed, limping. She caught a fleeting grin of pain on his face. "I can walk" she protested. He shushed her and went on.  
  
He laid her on the bed and sat next to her. His eyes were sparkling. He stared at her so intensely she felt he was drinking her. She hardly felt his fingers unbutton her blouse but her body arched when he started caressing her. Never breaking the look he came on her ...  
  
Clarice had one last clear thought at their situation. Then she lost her reason.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Ardelia Mapp, Paul Krendler and Clint Pearsall (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the delay, but time does not agree with me in these days. I hope you will like it anyway ...  
  
  
**Chapter 15**  
  
Clarice woke up first in the morning. The sun was still low on the horizon and the hotel room was in half-light.  
  
They had fell asleep shortly after they had made love. She couldn't help sighing at the thought of the turmoil which had send both of them into raptures during the night. Hannibal' s attention had been entirely focused on her desires, alternating moments of tenderness she'd never have thought he was capable of, with moments of unbridled passion leaving her breathless and panting.  
  
Now she was laying in his embrace, her head on his chest. She carefully raised her face to him and watched him sleeping for a while. There was no more doubts in her mind. Here was the man she loved. From this she was certain. As much as she was certain he loved her back the same way.  
  
The cool morning air made her slightly chill. Without opening his eyes, Hannibal hold her tighter and gently rubbed her arm. The next shiver that shook her body had nothing to do with the cold.  
  
He opened his eyes and stared at her.  
  
" - Good morning, Clarice." he said softly. "Have you been awake for long ?  
- No. Just a few minutes ... I didn't want to wake you up ... I was just ... watching. To make sure everything was real."  
  
He planted a kiss on her forehead before he continued.  
  
" - Everything was real, Clarice. **You **made it real.  
- You think one can make things real if one believes enough in it, don't you ?  
- Not **believe**, but fight enough to make it happen, yes.  
- I don't remember I fought with you, Hannibal."  
  
He chuckled. "No." he answered. "Your enemy was much more powerful then me, I'm afraid. You had to fight with yourself ... And you won."  
  
Clarice bent her head and started caressing the gray hair on his chest. He let her do without a word and gave her some time before he tackled more concrete issues. Breaking the charm was as painful for him as it would be for her. But there were things they had to settle. "You should get prepared, Clarice." he whispered after a while. She looked at him, puzzled as if he had just waken her.  
  
" - You would not want to be late at your appointment with your colleagues, would you ?  
- I don't want to go back there." she sighed. "Not now.  
- I know. But you will have to.  
- Why ? We could just leave now, together and they would never find us again. After all, you're an expert at these things, aren't you ?"  
  
He smiled. He had heard in her voice that she knew she would have to go back. Her tone had betrayed her. She could probably have fooled anybody else, but not him.  
  
" - I feel honored by your trust, Clarice. But even **I** need a little time to organize things. I actually have one or two possible moves in case of emergency. But these are for a man alone. I never dared to include you in my plans.  
- Well, I guess you will have to change your habits from now on, Hannibal Lecter. Because I'm not gonna let you go anywhere without me."  
  
A laugh shook his chest and she kissed him, which almost made him loose his concentration.  
  
" - Can't I rather help you with the preparation ?" she tried once more.  
" - There is nothing in the world I would love more than to be able to keep you here, Clarice. But what we need less for now is to attract the attention of the FBI. Even our friend Pearsall would start asking himself questions, should you not report to Albany this morning. And there is a certain number of things we have to take care of before we can say good-bye. Your rented car being one of them ..."  
  
Clarice suddenly realized the meaning the words 'take care of' could have in the mouth of Hannibal Lecter. And that worried her a bit. She had made her choice, and she would follow him whatever would happen. Yet, there were things that were still difficult for her to accept. "Do you think it will involve ... more victims ?" she asked hesitantly, without looking at him.  
  
Hannibal understood her question was serious, and that, even though she had definitely progressed in her acceptance of who he was, his possible answer was still somewhat frightening for her. However, he was also aware that their relationship could only be based on honesty. "Not necessarily, Clarice." he started.   
  
" - That is, not if it can be avoided. I do not kill without a good reason. Or at least what sounds like a good reason to me. I hope you know it by now.  
- Yes." she whispered. "I know.  
- But what you gave me yesterday is the most beautiful thing I ever received in my life. And I will not let **anybody **take it away from me. Do you understand this ?  
- I think I do.  
- Umm ... I'm not sure you can yet understand how much you mean to me, Clarice. But hopefully that will come. Meantime, should anyone be a threat to **us**, I will not hesitate to kill again ... Not one second. Would it be a problem for you ?"  
  
He had pronounced his last words with the gentleness one would have used with a child. She looked back at him and read in his eyes that he was more than serious about it. Clarice took her time to answer. She asked herself the only question that counted now: would she be able to kill for him ? Despite all she had been believing so far, the answer she found in the deep of her heart was yes. She stared at him with a resolution that could not escape him. "No." she answered. "It would not be a problem."  
  
They stayed in bed for another half hour, cuddling each other tenderly, until it was time for Clarice to go. She stood up and went to the bathroom. When she came out, Hannibal was still in bed. He watched her gathering the clothes he had thrown on the floor a few hours ago and dress. When she was ready she looked at him and the intensity of his gaze startled her.  
  
"- What ?" she asked, wondering why he was looking at her like that. "Did I forget something ?  
- Umm ? No. Nothing ... I was just realizing that perfection might well exist, after all."  
  
She smiled and came to sit on the bed next to him. He took her hand and kissed her palm.  
  
"- My God !" she unexpectedly exclaimed.  
" - What ?  
- I actually **did **forget something.  
- What is it, Clarice ?  
- I promised I would keep Jason informed last night. I'm afraid I scared him a bit telling him the FBI was after you. He must be worried as hell.  
- Don't worry. I'll call him in the morning.  
- Can you do this ?  
- Of course I can.  
- Tell him I'm sorry, will you ? I really wanted to call him but ...  
- But you got too busy with something else." he finished her sentence with a mischievous smile. "I am sure Jason will understand. You have to go now.  
- Right. See you tonight then."  
  
He nodded. She gave him a last brief kiss, stood up and headed at the door. She was already outside of the room when he heard her voice: "I love you, Hannibal." The door shut before he could even answer.  
  


* * *

  
Though it was not in his habits, Hannibal stayed one more hour in bed, reflecting on the course his life had recently taken. From the day Clarice had left the old hotel after his rescue, she had been present in his dreams almost every night. These had not always been pleasant dreams, though. In more than one occasion, had he heard Clarice answering again 'Not in a thousand years ...' to him.  
  
Not that he had doubted that she loved him. Neither did he believe that she was not strong enough to follow him. On the contrary: he was convinced that she was strong enough to renounce to her feelings for her principles. But last night had not been a dream, and he knew she would not change her mind.   
  
Now they were in two. The simple thought sounded so strange to him. That was likely to complicate the flight too. Hannibal knew that one of his strengths and a major reason for which he had succeeded escaping his pursuers in the past was his independence. He was alone and could easily decide at any moment to leave or change direction, without having to take care of anybody else.  
  
If he had to have a traveling companion, Clarice was probably one of the best he could find. She had the abilities, and the proper training. However, they would be more gaudy and vulnerable in two.  
  
Hannibal finally decided to get up. Time was passing and he certainly had a lot of preparation to do. But first, he called his son and reassured him.  
  
Once washed and dressed, he went to sit at the little desk and retrieved his laptop from a drawer. He remained still in front of the computer for a few minutes, deciding on their next move. After having chosen a strategy, he connected the device to the hotel room telephone line and started keying in.  
  
Hannibal Lecter was a rich man. He had long ago ensured that money would never be an obstacle for him. His fortune had been spread around the world over an impressive network of false identities, each of which would easily outlive a reasonably deep investigation by any law enforcement agency. Each of his 'aliases' had a life of his own, with a past, official records, ... and everything that goes with it. But, not having any good reason to do it, he had never went to the trouble of marrying one of them. He was regretting it now.  
  
After examining a few possibilities, he finally selected his next identity. Carlos Esteban Richter was allegedly the son of the baron Karl Heinz Von Richter, a rich german aristocrat who had had to leave Germany in 1945 for his compromising relationships with the nazis during the war. The baron Von Richter had settled in Brazil where he had married the daughter of a respected landowner, Esmeralda Santana, and raised a unique son they had named Carlos.  
  
Von Richter had existed, as well as his beloved wife Esmeralda. They had left Brazil in 1954 though, to settle in California. They had both died childless in 1986 in a car accident. Carlos Esteban was a pure invention. However he had a regular birth certificate, registered by the town of Porto Alegre, in the south of Brazil. He also had regular school records, in Brazil as well as in the United States. Hannibal had understood a long time ago that many things were possible as long as you could properly reward a service.  
  
Carlos Richter was now the rich owner of an hacienda fifty miles away from Sao Paulo. He had bought the place about ten years before but had never really lived there. To the best people knew, he was traveling, mainly in Europe.  
  
It was thus in Europe he would have met love. Clarice' s file at Quantico - the one he had hacked a long time ago - did not mention her speaking any foreign language. That would limit his choice. He finally opted for Ireland. She would eventually have to be careful to her accent, but her physical appearance could make her easily pass for an irish woman.  
  
Laura Evans. He whispered the name as he wrote it. Yes ... If he had to call her anything other than Clarice in public, Laura would be a nice substitute.  
  
He spent another hour at his computer. He had not the necessary time to build a life for miss Evans, but he put down a few notes Clarice would have to learn by heart about her character. The passport and driving license would not be a problem. He had enough blank material to forge acceptable documents. He would need pictures of her though.  
  
Hannibal was starting to feel hungry. He decided for a quick lunch in the hotel restaurant. He stood up and went to the door. That cast would be something he would have to take care of. Clarice and Jason had taken no risk and wrapped his leg from groin to toe, which made any movement difficult and would most likely attract attention to him. He locked the door of his room and made it down the stairs.  
  
Tourism was not Laking main activity, and the restaurant was almost empty when Hannibal arrived. Only two tables were actually occupied. Right in the center of the room was sitting a middle-aged couple who was residing in the hotel. In one corner, but close to a window, was Miss Baldridge, an old lady whose apartment was two blocks away and who was taking all her meals at Calhoun' s. Hannibal had enjoyed a couple of pleasant conversations with Miss Baldridge. He saluted her while walking to his table, in the furthest corner from the entrance.  
  
Not more than a minute later, Mrs. Calhoun brought him a glass of wine and the menu of the day. Hannibal ordered a light lunch, made of an entrecote with fresh vegetables.  
  
When he had finished his meal, Mr. Calhoun himself brought him a cup of coffee, along with a bottle of family made liqueur and two glasses. As every day, the man sat at Hannibal' s table without waiting for an invitation. In other circumstances, Hannibal could have been upset by such a behavior. But he had come to appreciate the company of Bob Calhoun. He and his wife had been very friendly and obliging to him and, above all, had never asked him any personal question. The respect of his privacy was one of the things Hannibal Lecter prized more from people.  
  
Hannibal took a sip of alcohol and gave the man a soft smile.  
  
" - Bob, this one is a delight for all senses.  
- Umm ... Yes. '95 was one of the best years.  
- Even better than the '92 you had me taste yesterday."  
  
Calhoun' s smile broadened.  
  
" - It is a priceless pleasure to share it with a connoisseur like you, Mr. Von Brandt.  
- Thank you. Do you think I could buy a bottle of this one ?  
- I should be able to arrange this for you."  
  
The two men went on emptying their glasses slowly and silently. After a while, Hannibal restarted the conversation.  
  
" - Bob, could I ask you a favor ?  
- Sure.  
- ... Well, I have an appointment with the doctor this afternoon and he should remove that cast from my leg.  
- This is good news ! I guess you have been impatiently waiting for this moment.  
- Yes. And I had planned to ... kind of celebrate the event with an old friend of mine."  
  
Calhoun raised an eyebrow, but if he had some questions in mind, he did not phrase them. Satisfied, Hannibal went on.  
  
" - My friend is in fact a lady, very dear to me.  
- I understand.  
- Yes ... I was thinking to have a special dinner for the occasion. I was wondering if you and Mrs. Calhoun could help me with it ?  
- Of course. Why don't you tell me what you had in mind and we will try to comply.  
- As a matter of facts, I had prepared a little list ..."  
  
Hannibal retrieved a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Calhoun. The man took it and studied it in silence for a few seconds. Then he raised his face back to Hannibal and nodded.  
  
" - Such a dinner is certainly not very usual in the area, but I think I can manage something.  
- Thank you, Bob. Obviously, I will take in charge the cost and reward the service properly. My friend should arrive late in the evening. Would it be possible to have dinner served in my room ... Let's say ... fifteen minutes after her arrival ?  
- No problem. Anything else ?  
- Umm ... Yes. I would need a taxi.  
- I can have one in about ten minutes.  
- Perfect. Thank you.  
- You're welcome."  
  
Calhoun stood and left the table with the expression of a man who knows he's gonna have a decent profit soon. The other customers had left and Hannibal was now completely alone in the room. He helped himself another glass of liqueur and drank it slowly, reflecting about the evening to come.  
  
Half an hour later, a taxi stopped in front of Laking County Hospital and, after having generously tipped the driver and written down his phone number, Hannibal stepped out of the car.  
  
In the previous days, he had made some brief research on the organization of the place. He had not found any information on the precise location of the various units, but he knew by heart the names of the doctors operating there, as well as the department they belonged to and their specialization.  
  
He entered the building. In the hall, on the wall at his left, he spotted a map of the departments and paused a moment to study it. In less than a minute he had defined a strategy and headed to the reception desk. He asked for professor Jamison, an anesthetist in the surgery unit. The nurse at the desk hardly looked at him and indicated him the way. Even if Laking County was a small hospital, pre-operation visits to the anesthetists were more than common and no particular control was made.  
  
Hannibal progressed slowly through the corridors. What he was primarily interested in was that the unit concerned with accidents was on his way to the surgery department. There he would certainly find the instruments he needed.  
  
It seemed luck was on his side. The corridors were almost empty and the few people he encountered on his way did not pay any attention to him. He finally reached his target. His prior experience as a practitioner in an hospital helped him spot the room he was looking for. Unfortunately, a nurse was busy rearranging things on a trolley a few feet from the door. Hannibal went to a couple of chairs lined against the wall and sat.  
  
There was nothing abnormal with a man with a plaster cast sitting in an hospital corridor, seemingly waiting for an appointment. He waited there for fifteen minutes, glancing at his watch from time to time, until the nurse departed and the way was finally free. He stood and moved to the door. After a last look at the corridor he entered furtively.  
  
This was the most risky part of his plan as he did not know how much time he had at his disposal. So he moved as quickly as possible and packed the items he would need in a rucksack he had brought with him. Basically, it included a special circular saw, a pair of scissors, syringes, and a dozen doses of Novocaine. He would need these in the next few days.  
  
The whole operation took him less than two minutes. Nobody saw him go out. His heartbeat had not in the least accelerated and the fact that his old automatism could return to him so naturally gave him a sensation close to pleasure.  
  
On his way back, he reached a laundry he had previously located. He slipped in unnoticed and blocked the door with a trolley. He spent the following twenty minutes perfecting the sound insulation of the room applying dirty linen in the door slits. Once he felt safer, he overturned a pile of sheets and settled on them as comfortable as possible.  
  
He made himself a first injection of Novocaine and waited for the medicine to have an effect. Then he removed his trousers, started the saw and began to cut in the cast from top to bottom. The plaster they had used was of poor quality and was randomly giving in under the pressure of the blade, forcing Hannibal to frequently pause to clean his instrument. Though he was concentrated on his task, his hearing was focussed on the outside and he had to interrupt his efforts four or five times when hearing steps coming closer.  
  
Finally, after nearly one hour, his leg was free again. He grabbed a towel and mopped the sweat on his face and arms. Then he wiped away the remains of plaster from his legs and cut the bandage that was wrapped around his thigh. He had a look at the wound. It had healed perfectly. He smiled for himself: he would have to congratulate the doctor tonight.  
  
Cautiously he tried his muscles. The results were not really encouraging. He knew that his bone had not consolidated enough and that his left leg would remain pretty useless to him. But at least he would be able to sit normally and go more easily unnoticed. Even drive for short distances.  
  
He retrieved a pair of clean trousers from his bag and put them on. He put back everything but the saw into his bag and, leaning on both his crutches, he stood up. Nothing unusual happened on his way back to the hospital entrance. From one of the public phone box in the hall, he called the taxi that had brought him there and waited for him outside.  
  
Mrs. Calhoun welcomed him back at the hotel. Hannibal had a hard time trying to stop the woman from talking about how relieved he should be feeling. In fact, relief was not exactly what he was experiencing at the moment and he was anxious to get back to his room. His patience with his hostess had almost come to its limit when Bob Calhoun finally called his wife from the kitchen. Hannibal thanked the woman for her kindness and went upstairs.  
  
Once in his room, he went to lay in bed and made himself another injection. As soon as he felt better, he got to the cupboard and retrieved from the pocket of his coat the keys of the van that Jason had parked in an alley behind the hotel. He still had a couple of things to do before Clarice would come back.  
  
The driving part revealed easier than he would have imagined. He covered a few miles to the opposite part of the city and went to buy two cell phones, one of them equipped with a camera. On his way back, he stopped at a florist and got a dozen of red roses. It was not very original, but, given the circumstances, he though Clarice would appreciate anyway.  
  
Before going back to the hotel, he passed a few times in front of the agency where Clarice had rented her car two weeks before. He finally parked in a little street behind and completed his observations on foot. From the low level of security and protection devices, Hannibal understood the criminality rate in the town was most probably very low, if any. That suited him perfectly. He easily spotted a back door to the place that did not even seem to have an alarm. A glance at the lock reassured him too.  
  
He finally went back to his room.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal was relaxing on his bed when he heard the soft knock he was waiting for. He had a look at his watch: 9:45 pm. She had come back sooner than he had expected. He stood and went to open the door. Even doing so, he realized he had not even asked who was behind the door. He was not being careful enough. He should be more cautious in the future.  
  
Clarice was now standing in front of him in the doorway. The sight of her took his breath and relegated all previous thoughts to the back of his brain. She looked tired. He took her hand and pulled her in his embrace, closing the door behind her. She leaned her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He bent his head on hers and took a deep breath, letting her scent fill his lungs.  
  
They stayed like this for minutes, lost in each other' s arms, without a word. In the end, Hannibal put one hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her apart.  
  
" - You look exhausted." he said. "They made it hard on you, didn't they ?  
- It's OK." She smiled to him. "Nothing I can't handle.  
- I have no doubt of it.  
- Do you want to know about the details ?  
- Anything I should seriously worry about ?  
- No.  
- Then we have time for that. Are you hungry ?  
- I'm starving.  
- Good."  
  
He led her to the armchair and made her sit. It was then she noticed he was no more wearing his cast.  
  
" - Hannibal ! You shouldn't ...  
- It's all right, Clarice. Don't worry." He handed her a glass of wine he had asked Calhoun to bring up earlier. "Just relax now. Dinner will be served in a few minutes."  
  
He leaned against the desk and helped himself some wine. "To us." he said, raising his glass. She nodded and they both tasted the dark red beverage. The temperature was perfect, Hannibal thought. Someone knocked on the door, interrupting his tasting. "Mr. Von Brandt, it's Bob Calhoun. May I come in ?" a muffled voice asked. "Please do, Bob."  
  
The door opened and Calhoun pushed a sideboard inside. Hannibal inwardly thanked the Gods to have sent only Bob. Mrs. Calhoun was a nice woman, but he could imagine the glances she would have shot at Clarice in mere curiosity and he was grateful his love would not have to stand them tonight.  
  
Bob settled the table and brought two chairs in. Then he withdrew discreetly, wishing them a pleasant dinner. Clarice looked at the table in disbelief. She faced Hannibal. He was staring at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hannibal ?" she whispered. His smile broadened. He couldn't tire of hearing her call him by his first name.  
  
" - I thought a nice dinner would help you forget a hard day of work.  
- This is a very nice thought, but how did you ...  
- Don't expect too much, Clarice. Mr. Calhoun did his best but he told me he had difficulties finding some ingredients."  
  
Clarice' s eyes were fixed on the dozen of roses arranged at the center of the table. She could not remember the last time a man had offered her flowers. "Shall we ?" he asked softly. She stood and followed him to the table.  
  


* * *

  
Considering the place and the lack of time, the dinner was very satisfying. Even the caviar, if not of best quality, was decent enough. Hannibal made a mental note to thank Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun properly. Clarice, not used to the same lifestyle he was used to, seemed to appreciate every bit of it.  
  
At the end of the dinner, she stood and came behind him. She slipped her hands under his shirt to his chest and bent her head to his face. Her lips reached his and she gave him a long and tender kiss. "Thank you." she whispered when she finally withdrew. Hannibal had been taken by surprise by her caresses. Would she always have the power to surprise him this way ? He felt excitement gaining him and had to gather all his inner strengths to resist the will to take her immediately.  
  
He took her hands from his chest and brought them to his lips. He kissed her palms gently. "Not now ..." he murmured. Then he could not help adding: "As much as I would love it." She looked at him, puzzled. He sighed.  
  
" - We still have a little job to do before we can abandon ourselves to pleasure." he explained.  
" - A job ?  
- Yes. We should take care of this story of rented car before your friends start investigating too far. Or have they ?  
- It's one of the first things we started this morning. Normal procedure ...  
- I see.  
- But for the moment they are concentrating on the area of the shooting.  
- That's what I thought. But I don't want to take any risk when your safety is concerned. Did anything seem unusual to you today ?  
- No. Classical stuff.  
- How did they behave with you ?"  
  
Clarice took some time before she answered.  
  
" - As I expected." she said finally. "They treated me as the black sheep they think I am.  
- ... I am sorry you have to go through all this, Clarice. But I will need a few days to prepare everything.  
- Don't worry. I can take it. Now that I know what expects me, I can take it."  
  
He kissed her hands once more and then let them go off. "Now we should move." he concluded. He stood. The pain in his leg had turned back and was getting worse by the minute. He went to his bed and pulled a syringe from the bedside table.  
  
" - Do you need some help ?" she asked.  
" - No, thank you."  
  
She did not insist. She knew it would have made him uncomfortable.  
  


* * *

  
Ten minutes later, they were walking down the stairs. The Calhoun and their guests had retired to their bedroom a long time ago and the place was now deserted and silent. They went out.  
  
The street was quiet. Hannibal started to walk in the direction of the Hertz agency. Clarice followed him.  
  
" - What do you plan to do ?" she asked him. He glanced at her.  
" - The plan is rather simple, Clarice. We enter, take the file, clean the computer, and go out.  
- Very simple indeed."  
  
He caught the irony in her tone; "Don't worry. It will be easy. I had a look this afternoon and there should not be any obstacle." Clarice decided not to comment. They covered the rest of the distance in silence. She followed him in the alley behind the agency. He leaned one of his crutches on the wall and retrieved a little tool from the pocket of his coat. "Would you be so kind to lookout for me ?" She couldn't help chuckling. "Come on, Clarice. I'm sure you've been there before." She calmed down. "OK" she whispered.  
  
The lock did not resist him more than a few seconds. He had a closer look at the door but did not see anything suspect. He opened it slowly. He slipped inside and she followed him, closing the door behind her.  
  
It was dark inside. Clarice never liked the dark. He must have sensed that for she felt his hand take her elbow and guide her to one of the computers. "Can you take care of the computer files, Clarice ?" His voice was calm and low, his tone professional. She suddenly realized fully who she was with and what they were doing.  
  
She also understood that this nighty raid was not just what it seemed. Watching him work, she knew he did not need her help and could very well have done this alone. Rather was it a rite of passage.  
  
Involving her was a way to test her. For the first time she was taking part to something illegal with him. What had happened at the farm did not count: their lives were at stake then. Tonight, the situation was completely different.  
  
The fact that he felt obliged to test her somewhat upset her. "I think I can manage that." she answered, irritation clearly identifiable in her voice. His hand came to the back of her neck and he started massaging her gently. Hannibal knew he did not have to explain. His voice sounded firm but not threatening when he finally broke the silence. "You don't **have to**, Clarice. You can wait for me outside if you wish. It will not change anything ... But I need to know."  
  
His voice soothed her.  
  
" - It's OK." she murmured. "I guess I'm just a bit nervous.  
- There is nothing wrong about that. We have time."  
  
They both started to work. Hannibal gave Clarice a floppy with a password cracking program and explained her how to use it. Then he let her work in peace and began to search in the metallic filing cabinet. He rapidly found what he was looking for. He rolled the folder and put it into his pocket. Then he joined her and leant against her desk.  
  
Clarice felt his presence before she actually saw him. She raised her eyes to him. He was staring at her in silence. He looked tired but serene.  
  
" - Are you OK ?" she asked.  
" - I'm fine."  
  
He drew a chair and sat next to her, his eyes never leaving her. "I'm almost there." she said, turning back to her task. He nodded.  
  
It took Clarice ten more minutes to permanently clean the server hard disk from all traces of her passage, or of Jason' s. They left the agency, careful to leave the place as they had found it. It was half past one when they reached Hannibal' s hotel room.  
  
Maybe doped by the thrill of illegality and danger, Clarice took all the initiatives for their second night of love. He let her guide him to pleasure. It was only when each of their desires was fulfilled that they finally fell asleep in each other' s arms.  
  


* * *

  
Her side of the bed was empty when Hannibal opened his eyes. But the sound of the shower coming from the little bathroom reassured him on her whereabouts. He sighed, still wondered by how a single woman could trigger such emotions in a man like him.  
  
She appeared in the doorway, her body wrapped in a white towel, her hair not quite dry. A drop of water was slowly rolling down her neck. Hannibal felt his lower body tense. Clarice noticed it and gave him a sorry smile. "I think I'd better go ..." she said. He nodded.  
  
She quickly finished preparing.  
  
"One thing before you go ..." he said. She looked at him. "There is a plastic bag under the desk. Could you bring it to me ?" She complied and sat on the bed next to him. Hannibal retrieved the two cell phones from the bag and handed one of them to her, along with a little card. She read the two numbers on the card.  
  
" - The first number is yours," he explained, "the second one is mine. Learn them and destroy the card.  
- All right.  
- This is for emergency only, Clarice. Do not use this phone to call anyone else.  
- Who do you think you're talking to, sir ?" She winked at him. "I'm not a rookie !"  
  
He chuckled. "You make sure I don't forget that." he added.  
  
She staffed the phone and the card in her pocket. When she looked back at him, he was aiming at her with his own phone. "I need a photo for your new passport." he explained. "No ! Don't smile ... Right ... Perfect."  
  
He put the phone down and she bent to him. They had a long kiss and she left without a word.  
  
  


* * *

_To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ..._  
_Absolut.  
_  



	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: The characters of Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, Ardelia Mapp, Paul Krendler and Clint Pearsall (as well as anyone you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn them back when I've finished. No copyright infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: And here comes chapter 16, the final chapter. This is thus the last occasion I have to **THANK **all the people who have followed me in this loooong adventure. So, thanks for having read it. And to the reviewers: you are wonderful; all of you.  
Before I leave you to the story, I want to add a very special **THANK YOU** to Clariz, for her constant support and publicity !  
  
  
**Chapter 16**  
  
Three days had passed. The FBI investigation was progressing slowly, but yet it was progressing. They had identified Menendez body and, doing the same kind of research Clarice had done before them, they had connected him to Willinger. The fingerprints found at the farm had confirmed their hypothesis.  
  
The second body had been identified as the one of Gary Sommers, a seventeen years old little crook from New York. Clarice had had to go and visit the crime scene with her colleagues. It had not been the easiest moments, but she had managed with honors.  
  
They had found three witnesses who had testified to have seen Menendez in the area. They had not yet found _Mc Namara_' s house, but they were getting closer. More worrying was that one of the agents had interrogated the gas pump attendant who had given Jason and her their first serious lead. Fortunately, the description the man had given of Clarice was not precise enough. However, from this moment on she had been more careful to avoid any potential confrontation on the field.  
  
From a '_relational_' point of view, these three days had been tough on her. The contempt Matt Brandon was openly expressing for Clarice had progressively rubbed off on the other agents. She had forced herself not to react, but it had not been easy and she did not know how long she could resist to the will of sending her fist to the man' s face.  
  
And, as if it had not been enough, she had not been able to join Hannibal the night before. The team had worked late and Brandon had suddenly decided to have a status meeting at midnight. It surprised everybody for there did not seem to be any particular reason for it. But nobody dared to comment. After that, Clarice did not have enough time to go to Laking and come back in the morning.  
  
Despite Hannibal' s warnings, she had called him from the cell phone he had given to her. She needed at least to hear his voice. It was the middle of the night but his voice was not sleepy. She imagined he had been waiting for her and rather than being upset by her disregard of security rules, he had sounded relieved to hear her.  
  
She caught some concern in his voice though when she told him about the unexpected nighty meeting. He asked her details about her day, especially about the way her colleagues had behaved with her. As a matter of facts, she had had to admit Matt Brandon had been a little less unpleasant to her lately. When she had asked Hannibal if she should worry about it, he had tried to reassure her. But even he did not sound very comfortable with the idea. Once more she had asked him how long they would still have to wait before they could disappear. He had let her hope that the end was close, that there was a possibility they could depart the following evening.  
  
Just before hanging down, he had whispered to her: "Don't trust them, Clarice". And these last words had poisoned her whole day. However, nothing special had happened and she was now driving on the motorway. In a few minutes she would arrive at Laking and would finally forget the rest of the world. She felt so safe in his arms, as if nothing bad could ever happen to her as long as she was with him. She could not explain why she felt like that, but she did. She would not push on him, but she sincerely hoped she would not have to drive back in the morning.  
  


* * *

  
Hannibal had been rather busy in the last three days. Apart from making identity documents for Clarice and setting a background for her character, he had traced their route to Brazil.  
  
They would first travel by car to Columbus, where they would take a plane to Phoenix. Hannibal counted on the fact that security on national flights would be much reduced, especially if they did not take off from a major airport. He had planned a stop in Lewisburg, Pennsylania where he would collect some cash he had sent to himself.  
  
Once in Phoenix, they would buy a used car and drive to the mexican border and to Nogales. He was almost certain the FBI could not mobilize all the necessary means on an _old case_ like his, not without a precise lead. They would mainly control international airports and main transportation networks, but not little border posts. With a light disguise, they would easily pass through the net.  
  
Then, a rented plane would take them to Mexico City, where they would take a regular flight to Manaus and then Sao Paulo.  
  
They would travel in the States as Mr. and Mrs. John Mulligan, a couple of english tourists visiting the United States. These Ids were not very safe, but they would do for two or three days. They would assume their new identities only when they are on the other side of the border.  
  
He had a look at the room. Whatever they would need was packed already. He was just waiting for Clarice. They would leave as soon as she arrives.  
  
Everything was ready and Hannibal was more than confident in his plan. He should have been relaxed, and yet he was being nervous. He had objectively no reason for that, but a little voice in the back of his head was whispering to him something was wrong. He knew it was completely irrational. However, time had taught him to never neglect his intuition and he could not help feeling disturbed.  
  
The fact that Clarice had not come the night before was most probably at the origin of his discomfort. This _improvised_ meeting at night could have a dozen valid explanations and in her report of the day, Clarice had not mentioned anything that could let him think the FBI had guessed about them. How could they have found out anyway ?  
  
Clarice was a professional. She was evolving on known grounds and was being very cautious. She was strong and determined. However, she had been subject to an incredible pressure in the last weeks and there was a million things she could have said or done that could have betrayed her. Maybe just a slightly out of place reaction or a look ... Details ... But things a trained FBI agent could have noticed, pushing him to investigate further.  
  
Hannibal shook his head as to get rid of his uneasy thoughts. To distract his attention, he sat on the bed and for the hundredth time started again to exercise his left leg. He had made considerable progresses and could now walk for short periods using only a cane.  
  
It was almost nine. Clarice would soon be with him and he could finally relax.  
  


* * *

  
There was no free space in front of the hotel and Clarice had to park a hundred yards away. She stopped the engine and stepped out of the car. She had a last look at the Mustang, thinking with a bit of sadness that it might very well have been their last trip together. Nostalgia did not last long, though. A new life was ahead of her and she could easily sacrifice her car to it. She smiled to herself. In a few seconds she would be in his arms, and nothing else mattered.  
  
She started to walk in the direction of Calhoun' s. The nights were starting to be less cold, she thought. It was almost pleasant tonight. As she was getting closer to the door, her steps were getting lighter and she was progressively getting rid of all the tensions of the day. As far as she could remember, she had never experienced anything approaching with anyone.  
  
She was enjoying the last yards, like a little girl the last minutes before Santa Claus visit. The hand that seized her by the jaw abruptly brought her back to the dark reality of the night. Clarice did not have time to react. She felt a strong arm wrap around her waist from behind and before she could catch her breath she was flattened against a firm masculine chest, a large hand on her mouth, another one blocking her arms.  
  
Clarice' s immediately thought of a thief, but the voice that whispered in her ear was not mistakable. "Well ... Agent Starling ... What a surprise ! Don't you know it is not safe for a young and attractive woman like you to wander alone in the streets at night ?". Matt Brandon chuckled and the sound of his laugh made her shiver. "Or maybe you're not alone ?" he added.  
  
Clarice tried to evaluate the situation calmly but from whatever side she was looking at it, she could not see any positive aspect. So, he knew. How did he find out ? One thing was strange, though. Brandon was behind her, but she could not see any of the other agents who should have been there with him ... had all this been a regular FBI operation.  
  
She heard a metallic sound and soon both her wrists were cuffed behind her back. Brandon released the pressure but kept his hand on her mouth. "Don't loose your time, Starling." he said. "You won't find any support around. It's just you and me. Lecter is mine and I have no intention to share the glory with anybody." She felt him smile more than she saw him.  
  
Clarice knew his kind too well. Devoured by ambition, convinced to be the real masters of the world ... She had seen so many agents like him. They were enrolling into the FBI or the CIA not to serve, but for the sensation of power it provided them with. Brandon removed his hand from his face and she took a deep breath.  
  
" - And you think you can take him alone, don't you ? You don't know him, Brandon.  
- Oh yes, I know him. It's been a year I've been studying him, Starling. Everything ... Your personal notes too.  
- Then you know he'll kill you before you can realize what you're doing.  
- I can assure you he won't. He'll want to, no doubt about it. But I have a priceless asset: his precious lady."  
  
Clarice raised her face and looked at him for the first time. His eyes were shining with malice. "No need to deny, Starling. I heard your phone conversation last night." He grinned.  
  
" - How did you know ?" she asked.  
" - Umm ... I can tell you. It does not matter anymore. A witness gave a very precise description of a woman and a young man who had shown him the picture of Menendez." Seeing her puzzled look, he went on, obvious pleasure in his voice: "Not at the gas station, Starling. In a coffee shop.  
- But I didn't ...  
- See it in the file ? No. I saw to it."  
  
Clarice bit her lips. It had been a lost game from the start. There were too many things that could go wrong. Brandon raised his hands to her face and before she could ask anything he gagged her with a scarf. "Now, if you don't mind, Clarice, I would like to finish as soon as possible with this."  
  
He wrapped his coat on her shoulder to hide the handcuffs, brutally grabbed her arm and pushed her before him. There was nobody in the street. They started to walk towards the hotel, but Brandon did not stop at the door. Instead he lead Clarice to the next cross street and took on the right. It was more an alley than a street. They made a few yards forward and turned right again. There were no street lights and it was very dark. And yet he had taken her to a little door without hesitating. Clarice realized he had prepared everything and had most probably been waiting for her for quite some time. Her brain was racing but there was nothing she could think of to get out of his grip. The image of Hannibal waiting for her upstairs appeared in her mind and she started to panic. She would be the instrument of his capture after all.  
  
Brandon flattened her against the wall and picked the lock. Then he pushed her inside. They were in a narrow corridor. It was dark and Brandon seemed much less assure than outside. Clarice could hear muffled voices, probably coming from the dining room. She thought of trying to alert someone, but did not quite see how it could help her. Brandon had an FBI Special Agent badge with him. At best, people would not intervene; at worst, they would cooperate with him. It smelled like the end of everything. She knew Hannibal would not let anybody take him back behind bars. He would rather die. And the more she thought about it, the more she convinced herself she'd rather die with him than take on this dull life of hers. Now that she had tasted what love really was, she did not feel she would stand living without it. Of course, this was something people like Matt Brandon would never be able to understand.  
  
She felt a hard object pressing on her back. She did not have to see it to recognize the barrel of a gun. She felt Brandon' s breath on her neck and he started whispering in her ear: "I have so far no intention to kill your _boyfriend_, Starling. But make no mistake about it: I will not hesitate one second if I feel anything is going wrong. Lecter is wanted dead or alive ... Keep that in mind if you plan doing anything that could make the task more difficult for me." He paused to give more weight to his words. From the tone of his voice, Clarice realized how much he was enjoying the situation. "As far as you are concerned, ... I really would like to see how you're going to handle the whole thing once Lecter is out of the picture. But, this would be a nice bonus, not a must. Should you ever tried to get in my way, I would have absolutely no remorse for taking you out ... Nor would the FBI regret you. You're a traitor, Starling. Believe me, when all this come to light, and trust me it will, you won't find anyone on your side."  
  
The last thing Clarice cared about was Brandon' s opinion, and she had already a very precise idea of what he had in mind. However, the word **traitor** had a particularly bitter taste, even in his mouth. "So," he went on, "here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna be a good girl and lead me to Lecter' s room. When we are there, I will undo your gag so that you can have him open the door. If I sense **anything** threatening to me, if I hear **anything **that could be a warning for him, I will simply shoot you. Do you understand ?" She nodded. "Good. I don't think I have to explain to you the kind of effect a 357 Magnum can have on a human body ..." She shook her head complacently. "That's what I thought. For the moment you've behaved well, Starling. You might make it through it finally. Can I count on your cooperation ?"  
  
She nodded again. She suspected Brandon was convinced she would obey to save her life. He sure could not be more wrong about her motivation. The only thing she wanted was to see Hannibal now ... even if it was for the last time ...  
  
They started moving in silence down the corridor. When they arrived to the stairs, a couple of guests were coming down and they had to hide under the staircase. Once the way was free, they climbed up quickly. Brandon removed her gag when they reached the first floor. Then, with a pressure from his gun in her back he indicated they should move to Hannibal' s room. Clarice started to walk towards his door. Each of her steps was both a torture and a relief. Brandon was following her. He was so close to her that she could smell the sweat on his body.  
  
They finally reached room 12. Her brain ordered her arm to raise and she knocked at the door.  
  


* * *

  
A wave of relief overwhelmed Hannibal' s heart when he heard the slight knock on his door. He took a deep breath and got up. He made the few steps to the door with no hurry. As his hand reached the handle, a reflex of prudence made him hesitate for a fraction of second. "Yes ?" he asked. "It's me." was the simple answer he got. But the voice was unmistakable to him.  
  
He unlocked the door and, as soon as he had done so, it flew open so violently that it forced him to step back until the desk. He did not have time to wonder what was happening for the vision that appeared before him when he raised his face again was self-explanatory. The worst of his nightmares ...  
  
Clarice was staring at him, standing in the middle of the room with her hands behind her back. The man behind her had shut the door as soon as they were in. Hannibal did not have to ask to know who he was. The look of Clarice was enough for him to understand immediately the situation. But no matter how desperate it could happen, what hurt him more than anything could have was the guilt he read in her eyes.  
  
How could they do this to her again ? His anger found its roots not in the fact the FBI was after him or had reached to him, but in the fact that once again they had **used** her. Hannibal saw the barrel of a gun raise and come under Clarice' s neck and his anger turned to cold rage. He did not utter a word but shot his penetrating gaze at the man. Rage was actually what he needed, for it cleared his mind from any other kind of emotions and filled his veins with ice.  
  
Brandon didn't look away. Instead, a smile broadened on his face. "Dr. Hannibal Lecter, I presume ?" Hannibal nodded. Clarice was standing still. Hannibal saw no fear in her eyes. He knew she wouldn't give in. "I am special agent Matthew Brandon, Dr. Lecter. And I'm here to arrest you." Brandon was apparently proud of his recently acquired good manners. Hannibal decided to play his game. When he first spoke, his voice was calm and his tone courteous.  
  
" - And what, may I ask, makes you think I intent to follow you ?" he asked. "I did not see any support team. Are you by any chance alone in this ?  
- I don't believe I need support on this, Dr. Lecter. I think I've got much better than that." He moved his gun to stress his point. "Your lady here ... I won't hesitate to shoot her, believe me.  
- I do believe you, Mr. Brandon. But do you really think it would stop me ?  
- Don't imagine you can fool me. I heard you two on the phone last night."  
  
Hannibal' s body relaxed a bit and he gave Brandon a smile.  
  
" - I see." he said, still smiling. "The fact is that agent Starling here managed to find me alone ... and before you. I had to ... neutralize her, in a way. Of course, I don't suppose I can bribe you with sexual favors, can I ?  
- Don't bother ..." Brandon was getting slightly nervous. "I don't buy it.  
- But of course you don't, special agent Brandon."  
  
The contempt in Lecter' s voice touched Brandon where it hurts. He tightened his grasp on Clarice' s arm and pushed his gun, forcing her to raise her face. "Are you challenging my resolution, Dr. Lecter ?" Hannibal chuckled and casually put his hands in his pocket. Brandon stiffened. "Put your hands back where I can see them !" he almost shouted, pointing his weapon at Hannibal. "And slowly !".  
  
Hannibal complied obligingly and the gun returned to Clarice' s neck. But it was too late. Hannibal could feel the cold and reassuring steel of his harpy against his skin, skillfully hidden in the sleeve of his shirt. Now it was just a question of time. "So ... How do you suggest we do this, special agent Brandon ?"  
  
Brandon was now abundantly sweating. Things were not exactly turning the way he had planned. He put his left hand to the back pocket of his trousers and got a second pair of handcuffs. He threw it to Hannibal, who failed to catch it. "Get these and put them on, doctor. Slowly. And I want to see your hands."  
  
"All right." Hannibal answered, with an appeasing tone. He crouched down and retrieved the cuffs. Then he started to slowly get up. He forced himself not to look at Clarice. He knew that he had no margin and that any error would be fatal for both of them. He had the harpy slid from his sleeve into his palm and opened it, his fingers guiding the blade so that the move was silent.  
  
With the grace of a dancer and the rapidity of a striking cobra, his arm unfolded and the knife left his hand. Brandon did not even see the harpy coming. The blade entered his trachea with a muffled sound and severed his carotid. He gasped with surprise but the air never reached his lungs. Out of reflex, his hands dropped the gun and went to his throat. His vision first got troubled, then everything around him darkened. His legs weakened and gave in. He was dead before he touched the floor.  
  
Clarice had seen every single move Hannibal had made. She had stood perfectly still until she heard Brandon' s body hit the ground. Only after, did she authorize herself to look at him. He was laying in a fetal position, his hands still on his throat, a pool of blood rapidly growing under his head. She crouched down next to him and pushed away his gun. It was more out of habit, for she knew he could no more use it. She turned her face to Hannibal.  
  
He was standing straight near the desk, motionless. "Hannibal ?" she asked softly. But he didn't move an eyelid. Nor did he answer to her. He was very pale. Clarice moved closer to Brandon and started to search his pockets for the keys of her handcuffs. She finally got her hands on them and managed to free herself. She stood. Hannibal was still completely immobile. His eyes were pointing in her direction but he did not seem to see her.   
  
Clarice was more worried now that she had been with Brandon' s gun on her skin. She carefully got closer to her lover. "Hannibal ?" she repeated louder, trying to get his attention. When she was close enough, she put her hand on his cheek. His skin was cold. Clarice had already seen that kind of expressions before: he was in shock. She put her arms around him and hugged him. But his body was as rigid as a corpse. She hold him tighter and whispered soothing words in his ears.  
  
Hannibal had retired far inside his memory palace, some sixty years before, in a wooden barn, during a cold winter in Lithuania. A little girl was gesticulating in a soldier' s arms, screaming his name, desperately asking him for help. He had not been able to save Mischa. He was much too young and the deserters much too strong for him.  
  
But he had grown up. And made sure nobody would be able to hurt anyone he loved again. It had been easy ... Basically because he never let anybody get close enough to him. No personal attachments ... Except for Jason. He had been able to protect Jason for almost seventeen years. Until ... In the last two weeks, the life of his son had been endangered and the only woman he had ever loved had been ... The image of Clarice with Brandon' s gun pointed on her neck suddenly replaced the one of his sister. He had almost lost her ...   
  
The warmth of her body on his progressively brought him back to reality. He heard her voice gently whispering. He only caught her last sentence but the three magic words blew life in his veins again. "I love you".  
  
Clarice felt his muscles relax very slightly. He looked down at her, bewildered as if he had just woken up from a very long sleep. "Clarice ..." he murmured. She stroke his cheek with the back of her hand. "Yes, Hannibal. I'm here ...". His hand flew to her hair and caressed it cautiously, as if to check she was real.  
  
" - Clarice, are you all right ?" he asked hesitantly.  
" - I'm OK ... It's you I'm worried about.  
- I'm fine. Don't worry. It's just ... I guess I had not quite realized how much I love you."  
  
He pulled her closer and pressed his lips on hers. He kissed her with more passion he had ever before. Clarice felt as if he was breathing her in. Her feet left the floor and she grabbed his neck.  
  
When their mouth finally parted for need of air he delicately put her down. They stared at each other.  
  
" - Can we leave now, Hannibal ?" she asked.  
" - Yes, my love. I am ready now."  
  
He took the things he had prepared and they left. Nobody ever heard of Hannibal Lecter or Clarice Starling again.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
**Epilog**  
  
Clarice was leaning against a wooden beam on the terrace, a mug of hot coffee in her hands, letting the sun warm her naked shoulders.  
  
Even from a hundred yards distance, she heard Billy burst out laughing with this incredibly pure laugh only children can have. She waved back at the little boy. Today, Hannibal was giving him his first riding lesson. He was sitting proudly on a black and white pony his father had bought just for him.  
  
**Their** son ... Even now Clarice had difficulties believing her new life was real, and not just a dream that would fade in the morning.  
  
William Hannibal Lecter ... It had been Hannibal' s idea to name him by her father. He had told her he wanted to free her from her demons the way she had freed him from his.  
  
And yet, Billy was all his father. He had his hair, his eyes, and the same incredible way to tilt his head to his side whenever something puzzled him. At only three, he was fluent in Portuguese and in English, and was starting to read. He had the same inquisitive look hannibal had, that made even the strongest adults uncomfortable.  
  
Hannibal was walking next to the pony, glancing at her from time to time. The night before, he had announced to her they would have to leave Brazil soon. He felt they had stayed there long enough and that it would be safer for them to move. He had seemed concerned by her possible reaction but he had nothing to worry about. She had loved her life there, but only because they were together. It did not matter where they were, as long as he was with her.  
  
Hannibal Lecter had long ago become Clarice' s Starling only home.  
  
  
  


**- The End -**  


  


* * *

_That's it, folks. I hope you enjoyed the trip ..._  
_Absolut._  
_  
_  



End file.
